Calm Like A Bomb
by theorignialLexiCullen
Summary: Viktor Krum has a brother with a questionable past & remarkable abilities. Tattoo-like markings start appearing on him that no one can explain. After he is kidnapped, the boy meets Remus, Sirius & Snape. What happens when the Tri-Wizard Tournament comes to Hogwarts with Viktor in tow? Warn:Amnesia,abuse,torture,poss m/m, non canon/compliant books 1-7
1. Prologue: The End

**Calm Like a Bomb**

_By Lexi Cullen_

Prologue: The End

"Hurry up! Let's get this done, and quick." The man held a small child in his arms as they apparated into the forest and started at a brisk walk towards their destination.

"What's the rush? It's still asleep." The man's partner lagged behind slightly, tripping over a few stray tree roots on the forest floor.

"We need to get this done before it wakes up," the man insisted, moving still quicker into the foliage and underbrush. Twilight was upon them and the moon's light waivered behind the clouds.

The duo came up to a passage and entered. At the back of the opening was a large expanse of stone. The man directed his partner, "Conjure the chains."

Eyeing his partner with a weary expression, he placed the child on the ground and stripped off its shirt, baring its chest. Turning back to his partner, he saw that the chains were now being merged with the vertical stone plane – four in all.

"Alright, heat 'em up," the man ordered.

The man's partner looked back awe-stricken. "Kaz, you intend to forge them into a three-year-old child's skin? Are you serious?"

The man, Kaz, seethed at his partner's ignorance. "Yes, Lerawski, I do. So it was said, so it is done."

Edina Lerawski kneeled before the child, brushing the black hair away from his forehead. On the boy's right temple, a pattern of what looked like Celtic knots and vines were seemingly tattooed on his flesh near a lightning bolt scar. In actuality, the design had been slowly manifesting according to his relatives. They had practically begged Kaz and Edina to take the boy and his 'freakiness' away.

"Kaz, I can't. He's only a child. I can't do it. This may have been prophesized but I won't be the condemner."

"Fate demands this of us," Kaz insisted. "You cannot deny Fate! You cannot run from it either. You and I both know that by now Edina. He will survive if we do this. It is all according to plan – Fate's plan. Don't trifle with things you cannot grasp, Lerawski."

Edina had tears in her eyes – Kaz was right. This was her second chance to redeem herself and her second chance at life. Fate had given Edina a choice to die while the Healers tried to fix her hastily after and accident or to live and bind the child with the help of Kaz. The lives of many depended on this happening.

Morals came into her mind as she reasoned that she would save the lives of many if she did this one task. She would be able to continue living and the boy would only temporarily be in pain, right? Fate had told her he would be happy eventually. The boy would have love in his life but right now, she needed to bind him.

Edina shook her head to clear the thoughts out of her head. "Okay, let's do this before my morals catch up with the present." Her wand raised and the iron links turned an angry red with heat. "You take his left side on three. One...two... three!" Edina took a deep breath and waved her wand in a circular motion.

The pale boy propped against the flat wall screamed in agony as the chains fused with the skin on his thin arms and chest. A green glow surrounded him as he fainted, still breathing.

Edina's hand covered her mouth to stop the sobs from escaping her mouth. Tears rolled silently down her flushed cheeks as she stared horrified at the boy and what she had done. Kaz's hand tugged on her arm, pulling the shocked woman from her place. "It's time to go, Edina. Our task is done."

Edina let herself be pulled out of the cave and Kaz apparated them away.

* * *

Andor Krum and his eight year-old son Viktor had been hiking through the Bulgarian forests for the past two days. They did this trip every year, adding an extra day to their trip each time. This was their third year and at sunset Andor would apparated them back home to Sofia where Viktor's mother would ask them for every detail of their adventure.

Viktor looked to and fro but couldn't spot a single animal anywhere. As they continued to walk amidst the greenery they heard distant sounds of life but none in the immediate area. "Father, where are the animals? I don't see any birds or anything. Did we go the wrong way?" Viktor looked up at his father questioningly and tilted his head to the side.

Andor laughed. "Viktor, you know that the only wrong way is a trial that has..."

"Already been tread, I know, I know," Andor's son interrupted.

Viktor stumbled over a tree root and his father caught his arm swiftly. Andor gave his son a 'be careful' look and they continued. A growling sound came from nearby and Viktor was startled.

"What was that?" Viktor asked.

Andor spotted the rock formation and moved forward. "Hold on a second, son. Let me look first." Andor moved quietly into the opening in the rock and investigated the cave. Sounds of chains against rock rattled through the cave.

A human form came into view crossed with what appeared from the distance to be black ropes. Instead, as Andor approached the being, he saw an untamed mop of raven hair and what looked like ropes were actually iron chains that crossed the young child's skin.

Andor continued into the small cavern and felt the tingle of another's magical signature. He cast a revealing charm and found nothing but a nutrition charm. He glanced once again at the being to see green eyes were staring at him with fear from beneath the black hair. The being, a young a boy, started muttering incoherently.

Andor went closer to the boy and viewed the chains. They were melded into the youth's skin. As Andor observed the boy became hysterical. He began crying and screaming louder and still louder. Andor could faintly hear Viktor's rushed steps on the floor of the cave over the boy's screams.

Once Viktor's head of dark hair was visible, Andor went to him. "I'm going to try to free the boy. I need you to calm him if you can, Viktor." Viktor nodded at his father, not totally certain of their pursuit.

Viktor placed his hands out in front of him as he went close to the boy, succeeding in getting closer than Andor before he boy screamed again. Viktor proceeded forward despite the child's distress until Viktor had his hand touching the boy's soft cheek. The boy held his breath, staring into Viktor's brown eyes with his own green ones.

"I am almost done, Viktor. Just stay where you are," Andor reassured.

Viktor kept still, just staring into the enrapturing green orbs. It was like they were telling him the secret of life and all he had to do was look at this boy's green eyes. The black hair on the boy's head shifted in front of his right eye and Viktor pushed the hair aside like a reflex reaction.

The taller boy's hand brushed over the manifested designs on the side of the green-eyed boy's pale face. "Father," Viktor said, "he has markings on his face."

In the next moment, Andor Krum had managed to get the chains to detach from the wall with their charms nullified. "We must take the chains off of his skin carefully. Just keep him as calm as you can. I fear he will hurt some."

Viktor nodded his head and stroked the boy's black hair. "It will be okay. I promise," Viktor nodded his head at the boy as he said it over and over again.

Tears poured from the boy's eyes as the elder Krum pulled the chains away and healed the skin over as he went. He only got the ones from the boy's chest off before he started screaming again and backed away from Andor. He crumpled to the floor behind Viktor and cried.

"I think our trip is going to be cut short, Viktor."

Viktor nodded to his father, agreeing. "Just make sure he is safe."

Andor managed to gather both boys in his arms and apparated to the Krum family manor. "Lailya! We're home!" Andor called to his wife of ten years.

Lailya Krum came out into the hall moments later from her study. "My dears how was... Oh my!" She exclaimed the last part after seeing the still chained boy with black hair. "What happened? Did anyone get hurt? Come here Viktor," Lailya fussed over her son.

"Ere Viktor."

The Krum family turned to the boy with chains on his arms. Viktor pushed out of his mother's arms and stepped closer to the boy. Viktor motioned to himself saying, "Viktor. I am Viktor. My name is Viktor Valvro Krum. Viktor."

Viktor put his hand on the boy's jaw, sliding his hand down to the point of the boy's chin and pulling the boy's face level with Viktor's. "Viktor."

Viktor smiled.

"What happened to the boy and why does he have chains hanging off his arm?" Lailya demanded.

Andor shrugged. "All I know is that they were forged into his skin. He was surviving off of a nutrition spell for who knows how long."

"Viktor is fond of him. Very gentle with him," Lailya observed. The corner of her mouth lifted into a half-smile as she gazed at the boys. "Was he alone?"

"Yes."

"Is he magic?"

Andor sighed, "I am convinced it is so."

"I always thought Viktor should have had a brother."

"So you want to adopt the boy? Is that where this s going?"

Lailya elbowed her husband, "Only if you will agree to it, dearest."

Andor took one last look at the boys on the floor with Viktor saying what things were and the boy repeating them. If this is what it took to get their shy son out of his shell then so be it. "Let's do it."

"I was thinking Izaak Krum. Like?"

"I do but I think we should ask Viktor."

"Viktor, do you think Izaak Krum is a good name for your new friend?" Lailya aked.

Viktor turned to acknowledge his mother's question and said, "Kozmas. Kozmas Izaak Krum."

Lailya smiled and gather both boys cautiously in a hug. They would be a family.


	2. Chapter 1: The Fire

Chapter 1: The Fire

August 16th, 1997

Viktor Krum lay asleep in his bed with the heavy drapes drawn to keep out the summer sun, when his brother crept through the door. They had been together as brothers for almost seven years and they both had gotten their letters from Durmstrang three years previous. When Andor and Lailya adopted Kozmas, they decided to list his birthday as the same year Viktor was born so that the boys wouldn't have to separate when school started. Both boys were very close to each other and Kozmas wouldn't talk much to anyone except Viktor.

As Kozmas crept closer, his brother Viktor remained quiet in his bed. Kozmas prepared and launched himself on his brother. Viktor awoke face-to-face with his brother's untameable black hair in disarray, slightly covering his green eyes. "Morning."

Viktor's eyebrows knitted together, "Morning? You jump on me and say 'Morning'? What kind of brother are you?"

Kozmas smiled at Viktor, "The kind that tells you that you and I are due downstairs in," Kozmas checked his gold watch, "seven minutes."

Viktor's eyes flew open as he sat up, flinging his brother to the end of his bed. "You wake me up _just now_? Are you trying to get me castrated?" Kozmas laughed as Viktor ran into his bathroom. He gathered Viktor's robes and laid them out for him. After he put Viktor's uniform in the black bag he had placed in the hallway before entering Viktor's room.

"Let's go Julio Iglesias," Kozmas yelled to his sibling. Viktor laughed from the bathroom and ran out in his boxers. "I laid out your clothes, now hurry up. I have our uniforms in the bag." Kozmas ran his hand along his arm and felt the scars underneath the sleeve from the chains. He remembered when they were removed and how Viktor held his hand the entire time.

"Come on Kozmas! You were just telling me to hurry up. Get out of dream land, brother, we're late." Viktor grabbed the bag from the ground and ran down the halls with Kozmas on his heels. The boys went one after the other sliding down the banister and swiftly dismounted with a practiced grace. Each grabbed a handful of Floo powder off of the mantle and shouted "Bulgaria National Stadium!" before entering the fireplace.

The boys were greeted with a shout of "Krum!" when they ambled out of the fireplace into the entrance way. The team manager was waiting for them.

Kozmas checked his watch, "Five minutes early."

"Good," The man said. "Volkov won't have a reason to massacre you if you get down stairs in five minutes." The manager was talking about the team captain for Bulgaria's national Quidditch team. The Krum boys were prodigies when it came to playing Quidditch and so the team managers were grooming them into star players from the age of eleven.

Viktor chased after Kozmas as they ran to the locker rooms and were in the door just on time. "On time for once I see," remarked the upstanding Bulgarian in his red Quidditch robes.

The boys headed over to their lockers to suit up. Kozmas and Viktor watched another player, Demitrov, come in late. Volkov wasn't happy.

Kozmas ignored the verbal lashing and took off his robe and shirt. A few players had yet to get used to seeing the scars that marred the young boy's back. His beauty, however, wasn't hindered as more tattoo-like markings continued to manifest slowly on all parts of his body. Just recently a faint outline had started appearing on his upper back. Viktor was excited and tried to guess what it would look like when it finally darkened.

Kozmas, however, didn't share the same enthusiasm. He wanted to be normal but normal wasn't much of an option when you spend your first few years of life chained to a wall. No one knew why Kozmas had been in that forest and no one could tell his family why 'tattoos' were popping up on his skin. He was a walking mystery.

Viktor put his hand on his little brother's shoulder. He had grown sensitive to Kozmas' feelings and could tell when his brother was feeling down. Viktor removed his hand from his shoulder and held Kozmas' hand flat under his. 'It's going to be okay. I promise,' he signed in his brother's hand. His younger brother grinned at him and nodded. He remembered the first time Viktor said that to him.

The two thirteen-year-olds grabbed their brooms and headed out to the field to join in the team practice. Kozmas and Viktor had been flying with the team for an hour when Kozmas went down to land. As soon as he hit the ground he was violently ill. A few players, Ginoski and Murra, flew down to see to him. Both landed and went to Kozmas but couldn't get within ten feet of him, as if there was a force field. Kozmas started yelling in pain on the side of the Quidditch field, successfully getting Volkov's attention.

"Come on, Krum. Suck it up!" he shouted.

"Volkov!" Murra shouted. "Something's wrong. We can't get to him!"

As most of the team was watching, Kozmas yelled in agony and a ring of fire appeared surrounding him. Viktor was at the edge of the force field calling to his brother when Kozmas burst into flame. As soon as the fire came, it was gone and Kozmas Krum lay still on the surprisingly un-charred grass.

"Viktor... help." Viktor snapped out of his trance-like state and rushed to his brother. He was unscathed and burn-free but he moaned in pain when Viktor place his hand on Kozmas' back. "Back is on fire."

Viktor pulled off his brother's arm and chest padding along with his robes when he saw more manifestations that hadn't been on his brother's arms before. Viktor pulled off his younger brother's shirt to reveal black markings all over his torso that weren't present in the locker room earlier.

"What's happening to me?" Kozmas had fearful tears in his eyes.

"Koz! Vik! Take the rest of the day off. Figure out what the hell is going on and get your prodigy arses back into this arena." The Krum boys stared at their captain for a moment before Volkov barked, "Now!"

* * *

"Mother! Something's wrong with Kozmas!" Viktor shouted through the house.

Kozmas breathed heavily but more evenly. He held close to Viktor in a reflexive action. Whenever something was wrong Viktor was there and it made Kozmas feel safe. Lailya and Andor appeared at the top of the staircase and once recognizing that their children lay in a heap just outside of the floo grate, the boys' father flew down the stairs, jumping the last several to reach them faster. Lailya followed closely behind.

"It's the tattoos. They're everywhere! He broke down on the field and burst into flame and was screaming in agony. Then suddenly it all disappeared and the markings were there. Volkov told us to leave and sort it out." Viktor racked his traumatized memory for anything he missed and found nothing.

With Kozmas' shirt removed, the family viewed his new markings. Celtic swirls and twists went down the side of his right ribcage and down to his hip. A pair of imperfect angel's wings graced most of Kozmas' back with a few broken and ruffled feathers. Lailya gasped at the sad beauty of the black lines so intricately formed on her adoptive son's back. She instinctively traced the lines.

Across Kozmas' lower abdomen lay complex scroll-like banners with words in Latin printed upon the child's tanned skin. "Flectere si nequeo superos, Achaeronta movebo." The words sounded wrong as they left Andor's lips. "I have no idea what this means. Viktor, do you know what this means? It has been too long since I've read any Latin to remember anything."

Viktor studied the phrase and said, "It says something about raising something or other. I am unsure of the rest of it." Neither Lailya nor Kozmas could make heads or tails of it either.

Andor looked thoughtful. "Lailya dearest, how do you feel about a trip to see Altair and Mira?"

Lailya smiled broadly, "I do dearly miss my older sister. Altair would definitely know what this means. I will floo call Mira now." The fussing mother turned to the youngest of their family. "Are you alright, son?"

Kozmas nodded and embraced his mother with affection which was returned in kind.

"Let's go," Viktor tugged on Kozmas' hand and they went up the stairs followed by their father to each pack their own luggage for the impromptu vacation. Viktor, however, didn't miss the tell-tale habit of Kozmas running his hands down his scars. His brother was feeling self-conscious again. Viktor would have to fix that later.

* * *

August 25th, 1997

The up-standing Krum family booked an international portkey for their trip to visit Lailya's sister Mira and her husband Altair and were waiting for their allotted time to touch the dented copper tea kettle. Kozmas mused about the interesting objects that the ministry used as portkeys. In the middle of his musings however, Andor stepped forward with an accurate eye on his wrist watch. "Thirty seconds to departure everyone. Touch the kettle," he ordered as his hand clasped the spout. The other three present touched the dented copper and suddenly felt a jerk from behind their navel.

Kozmas and Viktor landed first followed closely by their parents, narrowly avoiding a jumbling of limbs during their landing. They had landed in a foggy field in Macedonia outside the city of Kumanovo. "Dearest," started Lailya, "I thought there was to be a clear day."

Andor eyed the surrounding fog suspiciously, "Crystal clear in fact. There shouldn't be a cloud or trace of fog anywhere." The family continued walking into the city and were eventually among the crowd of commuters during their morning hype. The heavy fog was widely noticed by the locals too as unexpected weather. Andor once again shrugged it off a freak incident of nature.

Red beams shot out of nowhere and stunned many people in the crowds. Black-cloaked beings were making their way through the crowds taking down a many people as possible. Many in the crowd rebelled but the heavy fog made it hard for anyone to defend themselves. Lailya shouted to Andor to grab the boys but when they went to grasp their respective children and apparated away, one was missing.

"Kozmas! Where are you?" Andor shouted into the foggy frenzy surrounding them. He pushed and pushed through screaming people trying to find his son. "Kozmas!"

The fog started to clear as the black figures disappeared. Andor looked up and down the city streets to see no one resembling his son. Where had he gone? Andor searched the alleyways and other surrounding streets calling his son's name to no avail. He realized Kozmas must have been taken and headed straight to the local ministry to file a missing persons report.

After a long and heartbreaking search, Macedonian and Bulgarian aurors alike came to the same conclusion: Kozmas Izaak Krum was not to be seen again.


	3. Chapter 2: The Boy

Chapter 2: The Boy

August 27th, 1997

The boy had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. That's what happened to all of the trafficked children that were kidnapped by the black cloaked figures. They were employed by one Jacques Hughes – a high ranking wizard crime boss. Though originally from France, Jacques had been force to move from his home country to keep his multiple schemes from being discovered. French aurors had been all over his illegal activities and had been about to bring him in when Hughes had fled for Eastern Europe.

Now, Jacques had started kidnapping children to further some of his other operations. Innocent children weren't taken seriously and wouldn't be suspected of carrying illegal potions or stolen goods to give to Jacques' buyers. It was the perfect plan. By abducting the children from different areas of Europe in many towns, different governments wouldn't assume it was the same person behind child kidnappings.

The boy from the Kumanovo raid though, he was something. His men, however, said that he had been screaming and yelling. They had silence him with a few beatings but the boy didn't get it until his head had been smashed into the wall and he had suffered a mild concussion.

Scars and tattoos covered the boy's body and the poor thing couldn't have been more than eleven years of age. The best part was that he could comprehend most commands but didn't seem to talk anymore. A kid that doesn't speak is one less liability if caught. The boy had seen some type of trauma in his life already and that alone made Jacques select him for a special trip. A buyer in Knockturn Alley in London had asked for a larger order of potions and this boy could pass for the kind of riff-raff that normally was associated with the dingy, dark alleyway. No one would blink twice at him being there.

* * *

August 28th, 1997

Remus Lupin, middle aged werewolf, was in Diagon Alley that day because he had needed to get out of the house for a while and stock up on more books while he was there. He had perused through the shelves at Flourish and Blott's before he started to walk back to The Leaky Cauldron to floo back to Grimmauld Place. He had been living there with Sirius since Sirius had been released from Azkaban seven years previous. Though Sirius had still been quite sane after his release, Remus could see the tell-tale shaking of Sirius' hands when it got cold. It reminded him of the Dementors every time.

Something caught the corner of Remus' eye. A small child being harassed trying to come out of Knockturn Alley. The boy was struggling but didn't utter a sound. What if the poor child was mute? What was the kid doing in a shady place like Knockturn Alley anyways? Remus' inner wolf told him to intercede and do it quickly.

"Hey!" he yelled at the various magical folk assaulting the poor kid. "Unhand the boy," he growled as he raised his arm, wand in hand. The alley wraiths let go of the boy on the threat of bodily harm and the youth stumbled across the cobble stone walk before falling before Remus' worn out boots.

Remus reached out and lifted the boy by his underarms, hauling him to his feet. The inky haired boy looked into the werewolf's amber eyes with question. "Are you alright?" Remus asked. The boy's eyes glazed over for a moment before he swayed slightly and shook his head as if to clear it. The boy had, unknown to Remus, experienced a sort of déjà vu when a vision of eyes with irises the colour of dark chocolate and caramel rings outlining the black pupils.

"Are you alright?" the older man repeated. The boy shook his head. He couldn't remember much. Thoughts jumbled in his head and he couldn't make anything coherent out of them. Everyone here talked odd too and he found he could understand some of it.

While the boy was day dreaming, Remus pushed on in his questioning. "Are you looking for your parents?" The small boy zeroed in his vision on Remus' face and tilted his head to the side in question. "Do you speak?" The boy immediately shook his head no.

Remus sighed. What now? "Are you lost?" he tried. The inky hair bobbed up and down in a nod. "Did you get separated from your parent?" he tried again. Once again the youth looked confused. "Do you have a parent? A mum, dad or guardian? Maybe a friend?"

A look of understanding washed over the boy's face and he shook his head. As his hair shook with the negative answer, the boy's tattoos became apparent. Remus was shocked. Who would tattoo a child? What a terrible thing to do!

The breeze came rushing down Diagon Alley and Remus' inner wolf smelled a faintly familiar scent coming from the boy. It reminded him of his friends when they had been kids for some reason. Remus mentally shook off the memory and bent down to the boy's level. "May I?" he asked, motioning to the boy's face and the child nodded. Remus lifted the hair away and studied the Celtic swirls. They were finely detained and beautiful.

The child touched Remus' hand and a voice whispered in his head, 'I don't know who I am.' Remus jolted back and stared at the boy. The boy looked imploringly at the taller man. "Do you need help?" The boy nodded once again in the affirmative.

Remus pondered for a moment while giving the youth a once-over with sharpened eyes. More tattoos could be seen peeking out of the long sleeves on the back of the pale hands and the boy's green eyes begged him to understand. "Do you need a place to stay?" The child gave a small smile which was taken as a yes.

"Alright. My name is Remus Lupin. Just in case, I should tell you now that I am a werewolf, but a kind one if it helps." The boy nodded and his eyes lit up. It was an extremely unusual reaction that Remus hadn't encountered before. Everyone was shocked, curious or most often disgusted and looked at him like the scum of the earth when informed of his lycanthropy.

"Come close to me and hold tightly to my arm. I'll bring you to my friend's house. He's friendly, I promise." The child was unhesitant as he reached and grasped at Remus' arm.

'Let's go,' was whispered into the older wizard's mind before the pair apparated away.

* * *

"Sirius, I'm home! Come down here for a moment, please," Remus called into the house.

A door opened at the end of the hall and a man with jet black wavy hair stepped into the hallway in his blue robes. He immediately noticed the boy behind Remus and laughted, "You went for a book and came back with a boy! Sheesh, Remus, this is a noble house not a brothel!" The man was clearly joking and it intrigued the boy.

Remus gestured to the laughing man, "This is Sirius." The boy waited no longer to fluidly weave out from behind Remus and walk to the black haired man named Sirius. He instinctively touched the man's forehead and drew a five pointed star.

'You are named after the midnight sky too? I am also.' The voice ended once the boy removed his fingers from Sirius' skin. Sirius looked up at Remus and back to the boy.

"Wow. Where did you find this kid?"

Remus smirked, "So it wasn't just me he did it to. I found him being assaulted in Knockturn Alley as I was passing by."

"He just told me he was named after the stars too."

Remus paused for a moment in his thoughts. "Sirius, look at the boy for a moment and tell me who he looks like."

Sirius was confused, "What for?"

"I want to see if we draw the same conclusions," the werewolf replied.

Sirius scrutinized the young boy's face and saw his intense green eyes. They reminded him of the eyes that had been Harry and Lily's eyes when both were around. A pang of hurt went off in the man's chest for the loss of his godson. He had gone missing as a toddler and never been found. The pitch black, wavy hair though made the boy look like he was a part of the Black family, almost exactly like Regulus' hair had been when he was a young teen.

"He reminds me of Harry and Regulus."

Lupin smiled, "He reminded me of James and you. Close enough."

"So kid, what's your name?"Sirius had turned back to the child to see him examining the room. "Kid," Sirius repeated louder, "What is your name?"

The boy just shrugged and shook his head. 'So he knows but he doesn't,' Remus thought. "Great."

"Maybe we should give him a name," Sirius suggested. He had his left arm crossed over his chest with his right arm tuck close to his chest and right hand under his chin; normal habitual 'thinking' position of Sirius Black. "He's named after the stars and looks like someone from my family. For all we know he could be a distant cousin of mine. For all _anyone_ knows, he could be a distant cousin of mine."

Remus looked reproachful, "Sirius..."

"Oh come on Remy. You can't just take a kid in and expect me not to want to keep him."

"He's not a pet, Sirius; he's a child with needs."

Sirius quirked a brow, "He's not a charity case either – you don't do charity cases, you turn them over to the ministry. So why did you bring him if he isn't a charity case?" Sirius' smirk and the look of defeat on Remus' face was the tell-tale sign that the child would be staying as long as necessary. If Sirius had his way, the child would stay forever (or until the kid moved out onto his own and had mini Marauders running around).

"So... What do we name him?" Sirius perked up at the thought of having another guy around to cause Marauder-like havoc on things.

Remus sighed, "He does look like you so for all intents and purposes we could say he's your cousin or long-lost son."

The former convict got a far-away look in his eye. He wished that he could have a family of his own but no one wanted a washed-up prankster-turned-accused-traitor that was actually innocent. The scars from Azkaban still weighed heavily upon his soul and nobody wanted damaged goods. Thinking of the prospect of having a son was like the coming of the sun for a blind man. The thought was glorious.

"Earth to Padfoot." Remus waved his hand in front of his best friend's face. Sirius shook the thought to the back of his mind and continued the current conversation.

"Okay so he can be a Black. Now for the rest of his name... it has to follow Black tradition of being a star name or constellation."


	4. Chapter 3: The Name

Chapter 3: The Name

August 28th, 1997

"What if his tattoos say his name somewhere?" Remus asked logically.

"His _what_?" Sirius sounded appalled with good reason. "Tattoos? The kid is like – twelve – and he has _tattoos_. What kind of person lets their child get tattoos before seventeen let alone before twelve?"

"They're everywhere. Didn't you see them?" Remus beckoned to the child and he came forth. Pushing back the unruly black hair, Remus showed the marks to Sirius, who was livid.

"Who did this to you?" Sirius demanded from the boy. He looked confused. Sirius motioned to the tattoos visible on the back of his hand and face and the boy nodded in understanding before looking contemplative. The boy stepped back and slid his robes off of his shoulders and down his arms, letting it pool at his feet on the floor. The gray shirt under the robes exposed the youth's arms.

The men had their eyes fixed on the swirls and designs that worked their way up and down the child's arm when their view was interrupted by the gray shirt being pulled off and joining the robe on the floor. Old fashioned scrollwork with the phrase "Flectere si nequeo superos, Achaeronta movebo" was scripted across the boy's budding six-pack. Sirius stepped back and leaned against the hallway wall. "Wow. Do you know what it says Remy?"

Remus nodded slowly. "It doesn't make sense though. 'If I cannot move heaven, I will raise hell.' What child would know this phrase to get it inked into their skin at such a young age? What parent would want their child to be covered like this? Tattoo artists of any kind don't even allow children younger than 15 into their shops in most places."

"Repeat it again."

Remus didn't hear Sirius speak. "I can't even begin to imagine.."

"Remus!" The werewolf came back to reality and faced his friend.

"What?"

"Repeat the phrase. It sounds familiar."

"If I cannot move heaven, I will raise hell."

"I can't place it. Something I've heard before I think... from my parents, actually."

"Let's see if there is anything else," Remus spoke and turned the boy around so his back was visible.

"It's beautiful. The wings look almost real," said Sirius in awe.

"I know... there is no way a child sat through this and just took it. There isn't a single flaw anywhere."

Sirius then noticed an almost-there word was formed amidst the swirls on the young adolescent's arm and felt confusion. "Remy, doesn't an artist usually finish small tattoos all in one visit? This one looks like it is a partially filled outline and hasn't been finished."

Remus just stood back after a moment longer of examining the boy and Sirius' observation. "You can put your shirt back on. It's a bit chilly in here."

Sirius' eyes lit up again, "Which reminds me, we still need to give you a name," he directed to the boy whom nodded. "Alright, so the stars... Hercules?" The boy made a face and shook his head in the negative. "Okay... help me out here Remus. What do you remember from Astronomy?"

"Not much, but doesn't your family have a star map somewhere? I mean, we _are_ in the Black family house and your family _does_ name their offspring after stars," Remus reasoned, always being the logical one.

"Yes, but not all the names... On second thought, there is an alphabetical star names list somewhere in the study. It was in the cabinet near our family tapestry last I remember. Let's go see." Sirius led the trek up the stairs and into a dank room with many small pieces of furniture scattered throughout it. "_Lumos_." Sirius headed to the left hand corner of the room and rummaged quickly through the wooden cabinet in the corner. "Ah hah! Gotcha!" A grin formed across his face as he waved two documents in the air above his head before closing the wooden cabinet door and striding over to the coffee table around which Remus and the boy had situated themselves. With the star names list spread out in front of them, the two men and boy each read through the names.

"Altair?" The boy shook his head.

"Mirach?" Another head shake.

"Sarin?" suggested Sirius at the same time that Remus had suggested 'Tyl'.

Both men looked at each other and realized that their method wouldn't work.

"Why don't you pick out a few names that you like?" Sirius asked of the child who agreed with a nod and silently perused the list. The boy didn't take long to motion for a writing utensil and Remus conjured a quill and parchment with the inkwell as a quick afterthought.

The youth opened the inkwell and dipped the quill in, careful not to drip any ink, he quickly wrote out: Naos, Polaris, Phoenix, Lynx, Leo and Vega. After a momentary mental debate, the boy scratched off the last three choices and was left with Naos, Polaris and Phoenix.

The boy then pushed the scrap of parchment out for the men to see.

"Hmm..." Sirius pondered out loud, "Polaris Naos Black, no. Not Phoenix Polaris... Naos Phoenix Black – it could work... Polaris, we could call you Aris for short... What do you think Remus?"

"Go with Naos. There hasn't been one in your family in ten generations according to your family tree. Plenty of Phoenixes and a Polaris four generations back. Use some kind of mythological name for his middle name. It always works."

Remus resumed his seat next to the boy and laid a dust-covered children's story book out in front of him. "This was sitting on the cabinet with some other books. It might help," he offered.

The book, once set down, opened to a random page in the middle of one of the stories. It was a folklore story about the angel of thunder, Mekkhala. The child took up the sheet of parchment again and wrote Angel.

"Angel?" Sirius was at a loss. Why would the kid pick angel?

The child shook his head and pointed to the word again.

"Yes, angel," he repeated.

Once again the child shook his head. Taking a hold of Sirius' bare hand, the boy sent then mental message 'Àngel, not angel'.

Taken aback, the older man let out an unintelligent, "Oh," and nodded.

"What did he say? Something different?" inquired Remus.

Sirius shook his head. "No it's the same word just pronounced differently. Instead of saying it ain-gel, he says it like on-juhelle. It sounds foreign the way he says it. I like it. Naos Àngel Black. Sound good, kid?"

Naos nodded his head.

"Padfoot, I just thought of something else. It's the end of August."

With an uninterested air Sirius replied, "And? This matters why?"

"Because, you lazy mutt, Naos isn't seventeen yet. If he is then the poor kid is a scrawny midget," Remus concluded.

Naos let out an irritated huff and glared at Remus, shaking his head. The papers they had been looking at flew off the table and onto the floor as if a gust of wind had gotten them. Suddenly the table started shaking and Remus and Sirius were pulled to Naos' side right before the table and its contents blew up into shards of wood and glass. Naos and the Marauders however, were safe behind an accidentally conjured shield.

'Whoa... oops,' echoed in both men's heads when they realized that they weren't even touching the boy anymore. He had projected his thoughts into the others' heads. And all of it was wandless accidental magic.

The first sound after the table exploding was Remus apologizing for the insult and Sirius was about to clear off the remains when they popped back into place. The only tell-tale sign of the disaster was the ink from what had been the inkwell was on the walls like blood spatter from a crime scene. It had stayed on the walls when Naos had reorganized everything.

"This is unbelievable. I need a drink," Sirius concluded.

Back in Diagon Alley the next day, Sirius, Remus and Naos were shopping. The boy had only had the clothes on is back with him when he had come into their unorthodox home and Sirius was set on remedying that.

Yesterday had been met with Naos getting enrolled in Hogwarts thanks to Remus' quick thinking. The boy, Sirius' "son", was to be starting fourth year. Naos had vehemently disagreed to any year below fourth year and so it was guessed that he might actually be a short 14-year-old.

The headmaster, Albus Dumbledore was of course privy to the details of Naos coming into their hands and a cover story was made. Naos simply nodded in compliance to their story. He was, after all, grateful to be in a warm home with kind people. He could only remember bits and pieces of his life; Days of abuse as the hand of a hulking figure. He couldn't have been more than four because he remembered everything being big.

* * *

On the busy street of Diagon Alley, Sirius, Remus and Naos were heading for the last stop on their list of things to get – a wand. Naos was excited and grinning with the prospect of having a wand. Though, he had to admit, he was slightly more curious to see what would happen if he had a wand when he could blow up and put back together a table and its contents with a thought. He feared how he would fare at school, not remembering using a wand at all and going to school half-way into a seven-year school career.

Ollivander's Wand Shop sat nestled between two other shops in the middle of the street. With such a location, they had passed by the shop approximately three times already, with each time bringing Naos more and more anxiety. The boy walked into the store, despite his want to bolt in with excitement, and rang the small bell on the counter. A tall greying man came forth from behind the many rows of shelves behind the register counter.

"Good morning sirs. What can I do for... you?" Mr. Ollivander held on the Naos' gaze and froze. "I must say, you look familiar but I believe we have never met. I am Mr. Ollivander and you are?"

The child looked thoughtful for a moment before closing his eyes as if he were about to fall into a trance. The eyes opened again and a voice appeared in Ollivander's mind. 'I don't know because I cannot remember. I am called Naos Ángel Black, though by those whom currently know me.' Ollivander stood up a bit straighter after he heard Naos' voice in his head.

"My word, child. A powerful one you are and will continue to be. I can sense it," Ollivander said with a wink.

"Did he 'talk' to you?" asked Remus, Ollivander recognized him easily by the amber eyes the man had.

The wand maker nodded and grinned. "So I believe Naos is in need of a wand." At the nods of the other three present, a measuring tape appeared. "Now which arm is your wand arm?" Naos lifted both hands and was rewarded with an arch of Ollivander's brow. The tape measure started making measurements at what seemed to be completely random places along the boy's arms.

"Most peculiar," the greying man repeated under his breath after every couple of measurements from the floating measuring tape. Ollivander retreated to the depths of his shelves filled with boxes, logically containing wands, and only returned with five boxes.

"Alright young Mister Black, I have five wands here. One has a phoenix feather core, one a dark phoenix, one a basilisk fang with venom, one the fang of a runespoor with its venom also and the last one I'll keep a mystery. Now, according to your measurements, these are the only possible wands that I have to match you. Dragon heartstring, unicorn tail hair or even, Merlin help us, Veela hair won't possibly be compatible.

"Try this one." Ollivander handed Naos a wand and once it touched his skin, a dark fog began to encompass the shop. The tall wand maker quickly snatched it back. "Runespoor wand down, four to go. Give this one a wave."

Naos held the wand in his left, then right hand and gave it back, shaking his head. 'It doesn't belong in my hands,' his light voice echoed through everyone in the shop's heads.

Placing the second wand back into its case, Ollivander shook his head. "Dark phoenix wand down, three left. Hold this one."

As his hand approached the box, the box scooted back. Naos attempted to grab the wand again and the box shot away. "Guess it's not the basilisk one."

Ollivander held out the fourth wand to Naos and nothing happened. He waved it; nothing. He flicked it; nada. He thought of a random spell; zero. He switched hands; zilch. 'It doesn't work,' Naos concluded. 'Was that the mystery one?'

Ollivander shook his head and have a short chuckle. "You, Mister Black, are by far the most interesting being to enter this shop in the last three generations I would believe."

"Isn't there still one more wand left?" Sirius, whom had been quietly observing the whole process, asked curiously.

Ollivander nodded, "Though this one is more of a test to prove my theory." He held out the brown plain box to Naos, who lifted the wand and with a swish, made all the dust in the shop disappear. "Amazing. Does that one feel better?"

It was Naos' turn to nod and projected, 'It's not right though.'

"It's holding you back, right? Does it feel like your magic is snagging on something or being pushed through something too small like a drinking straw?" Naos nodded and tilted his head in confusion. "That wand felt best because it doesn't have a core in it. You're probably wondering why. My theory is that there simply isn't a wand core that could be compatible with whatever type of magic is running through your veins."

"Don't you mean his core?" Remus inquired, being the logical one.

Ollivander shook his head, "I've been at the job for many a years and his magic is everywhere. If he thought of something, he'd probably be able to make it happen – no spell required like accidental magic. Has he done that before?"

Sirius' answered, "Actually, yesterday he was upset about a joking prod at his size and blew up the coffee table. He projected the word 'Oops' and set it all back to the way it had been, not a wood grain out of place."

"Actually, I think it might have been an improvement to the table's structure. It seemed more stable after. Naos may have unintentionally strengthened it," Remus joked.

The greying man smiled at Naos, "Personally, I think you, young Mister Black, should have been named Prodigy, for you shall certainly be one."

Naos nodded his silent thanks and followed his guardians out of the shop's door, hinges creaking on their way out.


	5. Chapter 4: The Sort

Chapter 4: The Sort

September 1st, 1997

The traffic at King's cross was unbelievable and a tad overwhelming to Naos. He instinctively didn't like crowds. The only experiences he had with them that he could remember were with the funny accented man, and the two times in Diagon Alley. Two of those times hadn't turned out so well and it became a quick rule of thumb: avoid crowds at all costs.

Sirius could practically feel his "son's" anxiety from the time they entered the station full of mid-morning commuters to the moment they slipped through the wall at platform 9 ¾. Remus, however, could actually smell it with his werewolf senses and instinctively put his arm around Naos' shoulders. Their ward seemed to calm a bit at this and even more once they crossed the barrier into the still commotion-filled platform but it had significantly less people milling about.

After heartfelt goodbyes and acknowledging nods from each respective party, Naos hugged both men and calmly made his way onto the train, picking the first empty compartment at the middle of the train. He entered the compartment, closing the door behind him and placed his luggage on the rack above him before taking his seat on the black upholstered bench seat.

Naos pulled the hood from his muggle sweatshirt over his head and the cuffs clenched in his palms. Even with his arms fully sheathed in thick cotton, he could feel the scars across his arms. He had realized that he had unintentionally covered them with his magic when he had showed Remus and Sirius his tattoos and shared them with the fatherly men a few days before embarking on the train to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Nervous about the coming experience, Naos ran his uncovered fingers over the arms of his sweatshirt where he knew his criss-crossing scars were.

He had been starring out the window unseeing for a half-hour before he heard the final whistle from the front of the train and felt it lurch forward, slowly gaining momentum. Several people passed by his compartment without bothering a glance when a few girls stopped at the door. "Can we sit in here?" a girl with brown hair spoke for the three of them at the door and Naos simply gave a small nod.

Behind the brunette were a girl with straight fiery red hair and another with wide day-dreamer-like eyes and long platinum blonde hair. "I'm Hermione Granger and this is Luna Lovegood," the brunette motioned to the spacey blonde before continuing, "and this is Ginny Weasley. Ginny and Luna are third years and I'm a fourth-year." Hermione Granger looked like she was silently asking for Naos to tell her his name.

He pulled down his hood, exposing his newly cut hair (Sirius insisted that his hair was too long and asked Naos if he would object to getting it trimmed) and facial tattoo. He sat forward and spelled out "NAOS BLACK, FOURTH YEAR" in fiery letters in mid-air with his index finger. Feeling smug, he sat back into his seat again and smirked. He had decided earlier that he didn't want to associate with certain people and those people involved students and thus didn't want to use his mental voice projection which would give them more reason to talk to him.

Hermione's mouth was slightly parted staring at the now-disappearing letters in wonder. "How did you do that? Students can't do magic outside of school." Naos just shook his head and pulled his hood on again, quickly spelling out "DON'T MIND ME" before resuming his scenery watching out the window. The door opened again after Naos' second set of fiery letters had already faded away. A dark haired plump boy entered, bidding hello to each of the girls before setting his eyes on the dark figure in the corner in confusion.

"That's Naos Black. Not very talkative fourth year this year," Hermione supplied.

"Since when, Granger," a snotty voice at the door drawled, "is there a Black in Hogwarts, let alone our year? Didn't your filthy muggle parents teach you not to lie?"

"Shut your mouth about my parents, Malfoy!"

"Make me, mudblood," the arrogant boy taunted. The boy's voice was quickly becoming annoying.

Naos lifted his hand and willed the word "LEAVE" to appear in flames without moving from his view out the window.

"How sweet, mudblood. You have a fan in the corner." His control on his suddenly present anger was slipping. The kid needed to shut up while he was ahead. "He's too cowardly to speak, pity." This Malfoy kid really needed to learn a thing or two about insulting strangers.

In a fluid motion Naos was at his feet. He pushed back his sleeves and hood staring Malfoy in the eye. "What are you going to do? Write letters at me? Ooh I'm scared," he mocked Naos again. The arrogant sod just got personal.

"NO, I'M NOT" The words faded away quickly and Naos willed more to appear "I'M GOING TO MAKE YOU REMEMBER." Malfoy flew back and slammed into the hallway wall behind him with an audible crack before sliding to the ground moaning in pain. Then he howled in pain. Hermione, Ginny, Luna and the pudgy boy turned to look at the new kid making a swift downwards slicing movement with his left hand.

Turning back to Malfoy, they spotted the after effect of Naos' slicing movement was a large bleeding cut on the side of the boy's cheek and throat that would probably scar. The dark boy sat back in his seat beside Ginny and leaned his head against the window. No one else bothered Naos for the rest of the ride to Hogwarts.

At the station, Naos disembarked from the train and went into a carriage. A few older students loaded into the carriage with him and he could fee their eyes on him the entire time. As he entered the school he met Professor McGonagall with the group of first years.

"Ah, Mister Black. You will stay at the back of the hall until I call your name as I can venture to guess that you don't want to stand with the first years. You will be sorted after them. I am sure your father has taught you each of the Houses, yes?" Naos nodded. "Good, then you shall know where to go."

The first years marched timidly into the hall and slowly were sorted one by one into their Houses for the next seven years. Something about this didn't feel right. It was done differently where he came from, wherever that was. This was completely different.

"This year we have a transfer student. Will Naos Black please come to be sorted," McGonagall called through the Great Hall.

Taking a deep breath to relax himself around the giant crowd, Naos pushed open the great wooden door in front of him and proceeded down the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables in the center.

The students watched the new kid walk down the aisle robes billowing like he had been taught by Snape himself. Only a few students from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff could see the tattoos that ran serenely down the newbie's face and neck where it disappeared into his black robes. The new kid looked up at the head table and quirked a small half-smile at someone at the staff table.

The tattered hat sat on a low wooden stool and had a wide rip in its brim. Naos quickly pulled on the hat and sat down on the low chair.

'Hello, Silent One. I know your secret and it is safe with me as no one else can hear this conversation and no one will. You can't remember, can you? How you got your scars and manifestations?' Naos answered with a mental 'No.' 'Watch the one that Sirius was talking to you and Remus about – on your arm. It will help you understand how they appear; the manifestations that is. As for your scars, Merlin help you if you remember.

'Now, technically, you shouldn't be here as you are not a wizard. Wizards only have magic that flow out of their core while casting spells whilst you, however, I sense have it everywhere all of the time. I'm unsure of what you are for I have never met one in my millennia of sorting. You are close enough to pass off as a powerful wizard but when you figure it out, please come and find me. It would be most intriguing information to have.'

'I will.'

'Good, now I think that you will get what you need in Slytherin. I want to emphasize that you should go to your Head of House with _any_ problems. As one of his Slytherins, he will not turn you away. He is a good ally. Cold exterior but soft interior as he is still human. Well you best be off. Everyone is staring and I know how you hate crowds.'

"Slytherin!" the Sorting Hat cried and there was tentative clapping from the table on Naos' far right. He sat down at the wooden bench seat and looked up at Dumbledore announcing it was time to eat.

"So Black, are you related to Sirius Black?" a hulking boy whom was probably in sixth year at least asked.

Naos nodded and scooped some mashed potatoes on his plate before pushing them around with his fork. "Is he your cousin, like Draco Malfoy down there?" the same guy asked and received a shake of Naos' head. "Not a talker, eh? We've only had a few of them people through the ages.

Naos shook his head again and waived his hand between himself and the guy "YOU'VE NEVER HAD SOMEONE LIKE ME."

"Cool trick. How do you do it? I can't even see your wand. Is it up your sleeve?"

Pushing back his sleeves, Naos displayed his bare arms complete with, as the Hat had called them, manifestations and scars.

"Merlin's balls, did someone whip you with hot chains?" the guy sounded impressed and concerned – not something openly displayed to others outside of Slytherin House.

Naos stabbed at his potatoes and lifted the fork to his mouth. "MAYBE."

When dinner was finished, the Slytherin prefect stood behind to take down the first years while Naos walked by the hulking boy, who he learned _was_ in fact a sixth year named Xavier but told Naos to call him X. "You'll probably bunk with us or the fifth- years," X said. "The fourth-year boys are snobs and robots anyways. You wouldn't want to be around them even if there was room in their dorm. If you want, you could ask Snape to stick you in sixth-year with me and my buddies. We've never had a fifth person in our dorm 'cause there were only nine of us that year."

At that moment they had entered the common room with the password, which would be a problem since Naos didn't speak. Snape was already waiting in the common room. He talked to everyone about their task as Slytherins to keep their house a unit. Everyone else was prejudiced against them and they needed to keep unity within the house to keep them strong.

Older students were required to help younger ones adjust and give any help possible. Any problems were to be brought to him by visiting his office, two doors down from the common room. Professor Snape held himself in a way that made others not only see but feel like they could trust him and that he was a strong authority figure.

Naos decided then that the Hat was right. Professor Snape would be a good ally. An unexpected one too as he was Sirius Black's "son".


	6. Chapter 5: The Solution

Chapter 5: The Solution

September 1st, 1997

After sitting in the common room for an hour, observing how everyone went about their time, Naos exited the common room to go look around. After another undetermined time Naos found himself stuck outside of the Slytherin common room entrance. He couldn't get in without saying the password but he didn't speak.

Finally, Naos resolved to go to Professor Snape's office as this _was_ a problem. Plus he needed to figure out where his trunk was. He walked up to the wooden door and knocked twice. He heard a simple "Come in," and entered.

"Mister Black, come in," Snape's voice clearly held disdain for the name Black. "You are the mute child that Albus informed me of, yes?"

Naos nodded. "Then I'm going to hazard a guess that you cannot find entrance to the common room." Snape didn't wait for confirmation and continued, "Then possibly we should make it so the door will open to your touch, yes?"

'No,' resounded in the potions master's head and he felt surprised. A fourth year Legilimens? It wasn't possible. His Occlumency shields were up and he didn't even feel the intrusion. 'The students don't know I can speak like this, Professor, and I wish to keep it that way as well, sir. I disagree, however, because anyone could Stun me and press my hand along the wall until they gain entrance to the dormitories. Restriction wards on entrances like that would also be time-consuming to erect to prevent such occurrences from happening.'

"Then what do you suggest, Mr Black?"

'Please don't call me that. I don' think I'm old enough to warrant you calling me Mister for the next four years.'

"Naos-"

'Merlin, you sound like an upset Remus or Sirius.' Snape was taken aback. Certainly this was not the offspring of Sirius Black sitting before him rubbing his temples as if he had a headache and calling his father by his first name.

"What do you propose I call you then, Black?" Severus played along with it for now as he was intrigued by the youth before him.

'Can I tell you the truth? Can I trust you?' Naos asked his professor.

Snape nodded, "As much as you want."

'Good. I've been Naos Ángel Black for... four days now, I think. I only remember things starting from about six days ago and back when I was a toddler faintly. It's amnesia or something of the sort. I keep getting flashbacks and they've been giving me splitting headaches for the past week but I didn't want to worry Remus or Sirius.

'I also hate crowds, don't like people around my age, I'm not compatible with any kind of wand and apparently according to the Sorting Hat, not a wizard. There are these weird markings all over me and Sirius and Remus thought they were tattoos but more keep appearing and I have these odd criss-crossing scars. A sixth-year asked me something about being whipped with hot chains and it keeps making me wonder what the hell actually happened.'

Naos sighed and continued to massage his temples before cracking open one eye, 'Too much?' he projected.

"No," his professor assured, "I've just never had a student waltz straight in and be so blunt and brutally honest. Plus having a child that is prejudiced against their own generation doesn't usually happen. Kids generally want to fit in." Professor Snape was also blunt which he didn't expect.

'May I hazard a guess that you also slightly despise my generation? There is no way that a person whom is well-rounded enough to be a dedicated potions master wants to teach whiney, snobby children whom give you nothing but under-par assignments to grade and excuses. People my age are spineless slackers; I don't hold that kind of patience lately thought I intuitively believe that I'm usually calm and quiet.'

Snape nodded, "Your guess may be close. Do you need something to relieve your headache?" he offered.

'If you have something, I would appreciate it,' Naos replied quietly. The aura of this room was relaxing him.

Snape rummaged quietly through his desk and produced a vial and placed it at the edge of his desk for Naos. "Take this. Tell me of your wand situation please."

'Could you open the vial, I think it's stuck,' Naos pled after a few seconds of struggling with the wax and cork seal on the vial. Snape smirked and opened it with practiced ease before handing it back to Naos and swallowed the blue liquid down.

"Feel better?" Snape inquired. Naos kept his eyes closed and nodded with his fingers still massaging his head.

''S just a dull ache now. Thank you. What were you saying before?'

"I asked of your wand situation. You voiced that you aren't compatible with any wand," Severus expanded.

'Oh, that. Mr Ollivander said that my magic isn't just in my core. He said it runs through even my veins. I tried a few wands with powerful cores and the only wand that would remotely work was a hollow wand – one without a core. I didn't get it because it felt almost painful, like squishing my magic through a small tube. I also don't use spells.'

"How can you not use spells?"

'I just think of something and I will it to happen. Watch,' Naos instructed. He lifted everything off Snape's desk and made it hover in mid-air while he made one sweeping movement across the desktop that resurfaced the desk to its original smoothness before replacing everything exactly as it had been. Snape also was slightly perturbed when he saw Naos morph himself into another Severus Snape only retaining his own green eyes.

Snape voiced this, "You forgot the eyes."

'No I didn't. I like my eyes and thought you'd get the point anyways. You're very observant. Did that come before or after gaining your potions mastery?'

Snape chuckled in a low tone, "Another tale for another time, but for now we must figure out how to get you into the common room."

'I wonder if I could just appear and disappear into and out of it.'

"No one can apparate into, from, or anywhere on the grounds of Hogwarts."

Naos shook his head, 'I didn't say apparate. I said appear. Is there a spell or potion to make oneself transparent, like a ghost?'

"Yes but if I show it to you, you must promise not to abuse it."

'Deal. If you want I'll stop by every day to tell you what I used it for and you can use your mind powers to see if it's true. Speaking of which could you stop whatever mind mumbo-jumbo you're doing? It's overriding your headache potion and making it harder to project to you.'

"Fine. Attempt Legilimency on me though, and not only will you suffer what is in my mind but a week of detentions," he warned sternly and brought down his walls. Naos let out a breath and sagged into the chair.

'I told you my generation was lazy but all the extra work gone feels good. My head doesn't but that's just a side-effect.'

Severus stood up, "Since the incantation of this spell doesn't matter to you, watch closely." He swirled his wand around his head as if he were pulling a cloak over his shoulders and disappeared – almost. He silently walked forward to Naos' left were the boy held a hand out to the barely there mist and pulled his hand away.

'Can you hear me?'

Snape materialized again and replied, "I could hear you, actually. An interesting thought. You don't require eye contact or to see the person you are talking to."

'But I could see you. My hand brushed the right side of your robes, or, where they would be.'

Snape quirked a brow, "You are most interesting, Naos."

'Something about that name isn't right. It bothers me. It's like my memories want to emerge but they're stuck,' Naos complained in Severus' head.

"Is it the lack of memory or the name itself that bothers you?"

'Both, though right now it's the name.' Naos yawned 'Where am I staying, Professor? Xavier told me that the fourth year dorms were full.'

"Ah, yes. You may stay in the third, fifth or sixth year dorms if you'd like. It must've slipped my mind earlier." It actually hadn't. Snape had just thought that as Sirius' child, he would be a snot-nosed brat just like his father, not an empathetic mute child, and planned to make him suffer for it.

'Sixth year dorms, I should think. I don't like people my age but I'm not going to give up the possibility of hospitality and learning ahead by having older roommates.'

"And this, Naos, is why you are in Slytherin. The house elves will bring your trunk there immediately."

'Okay, I need to owl Sirius and get him to change my name. It's like my memories are taunting me every time someone says Naos.'

"Then what should every call you?" the potions professor countered.

Naos looked thoughtful. 'Ángel, maybe. It's my middle name. I'll get back to you about that. Maybe I'll have an idea when the new tattoo shows up.' Severus gave him a quizzical look before Naos parroted his words from earlier, 'Another tale for another time.'

Snape simply arched a brow and inclined his head slightly. "So be it. I expect you in here every day or so to let me check that you aren't abusing your powers."

'Could I ask a favour of you, Professor?' Naos asked quietly as he stood up.

"What Ángel?" the older man's voice seemed to purr out.

'I have a feeling that English wasn't my first language for many years.'

Snape was confused. "And...? Your question is?"

'I was wondering if you had enough time to help me with associating potions ingredients with names. It's hard enough to read the names and not understand which is which, but I understand that that would be dangerous in a work situation in Potions class.'

A smirk furrowed its way on to Severus Snape's lips and he agreed with the shake of his head saying it was a smart idea. Naos stood and promptly walked toward the door behind him when he stopped.

'Oh, sir? I have one last question.'

"Yes?"

'Are you observant?'

Snape was taken aback. "Excuse me?"

'Many people are observant. The rest are blind with their eyes wide open. I want to know if you are observant.'

"Yes," the professor answered, "you can trust me."

'Thank you. That was the answer I was looking for.' Naos faded into the wall and reappeared in the Slytherin common room, scaring a few third and fellow fourth years.

The stairs to the boys' dormitories were to the right at the back of the common room whilst the girls' rooms were to the left, so Naos continued through the room to the boys' dorms. He strolled down the corridor to the room with the 6th year plaque on it. One of the boys had placed a chalk board on the door and had written all the guys' names on it. Marc, X, Zach and Kane were written in stylish white chalk, proclaiming this to be the right room.

Naos decided it would be awkward to knock at his own door but arrogant to just walk in unannounced so he knocked and opened the door and leaned against the door frame. "Hey! Guys, this is Naos Black. You staying in here with us?" Xavier asked as he jumped off the bed in the middle of the room and walked over to Naos, slinging his arm over his shoulder.

"CAN'T STAND MY FIRST NAME," he spelled out in his fiery letters. "AND YES, SNAPE PUT ME HERE."

"Great. So what does everyone call you?" asked one of the guys that weren't as big as Xavier.

"NAOS, BUT I PREFER MY MIDDLE NAME ÁNGEL."

"What kind of person names their kid Angel?" asked the same boy as before.

"PRONOUNCED ON-JELL."

"Oh, but still; isn't your dad Sirius Black?" Naos nodded to this. "Isn't he supposed to be some alleged notorious mass murder?" Another nod shut up the questioning boy.

"What's with your face?"

The boy was elbowed in the ribs by Xavier. "Nosey sod, you can't just ask someone what's with their face."

"Sod off, X. Just asking a question, I mean the kid is fourteen with a tattoo on 'is face. Gotta be for a reason, yeah?"

"DON'T KNOW WHY THEY'RE THERE. THEY APPEAR."

"Right, and I got a flyin' cow that wears bloomers."

"LOOK."

Naos pulled off his robes and they flooded on the stone floor. He was quick to pull off his white button-up shirt to reveal most of it.

"Whoa." The third unnamed boy in the room had finally spoken. "We should call you Azrael."


	7. Chapter 6: The Theory

Chapter 6: The Theory

September 1st, 1997

"What?"

The third boy looked at X. "His arm says Azrael. We should call him Azrael."

All the guys looked to Naos in question. The young teen examined the markings on his arm to see it had finished appearing. "THIS ONE STARTED FIVE DAYS AGO. JUST FINISHING NOW."

"So... what do you think?" asked the fourth boy. "Oh, by the way, I'm Kane. The Spanish Inquisition over there is Marc, short for Marcus and the nosy sod is Zach, short for Zacharus."

"And Kane's first name is actually Eros," said Zach smugly. "Now that we're all acquainted, do you mind if we call you Azrael?"

"GO FOR IT," was all the younger boy. "WHY DOES AZRAEL SOUND FAMILIAR?"

"Archangel of Death in a few religions," informed Xavier in an off-handed tone from across the room where he was unpacking. "By the way, the bed at the end is yours."

"So where are you from?" inquired Kane.

Azrael shrugged, "AROUND. I DON'T REMEMBER THE LAST TEN OR SO YEARS OF MY LIFE. AMNESIA."

Zach quickly followed up with, "So how did you get the scars?"

"DON'T REMEMBER." Azrael turned away and pulled his white shirt back on, black markings faintly visible still through the fabric. He understood everyone's curiosity about his scars but it made him feel a bit insecure; a very uncomfortable feeling a far as he was concerned. He felt like he was missing something every time someone said something about his body and it was making him more edgy about such topics and apprehensive about talking to others about them. Azrael hated his weakness.

The boys continued lighter conversations with Azrael contributing a little here and there.

"Az. We have a rule in this dorm," informed Marc after everyone was finished unpacking. "You might only be a fourth year, but once you're in here, you're in 'til the end. We have each other's backs in here. I'm not talking about in Slytherin house, but in this dorm. We defend out brothers here, got it."

"GOT IT," agreed Azrael.

* * *

September 2nd, 1997

"Okay class," started the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher Alastor Moody. "This year, you will all learn how to use defensive spells and properly shield yourselves. We will be using jinxes and your opponents will attempt to block them. Would anyone like to demonstrate? No? Granger and Black, come up here," Moody ordered.

The girl from the train and Azrael went up to the front. "Now, Miss Granger, cast _petrificus totalus_ on Mr Black and Mr Black, attempt to block the spell. Go."

Hermione held out her wand and shouted the spell, aiming for Azrael's chest. The light flew at Azrael and his hand shot up and caught the spell in his hand, looked at it and threw it over his shoulder, hitting another student and effectively binding them. He thrust one hand up and Hermione flew through the air and hit the bookshelf behind her.

Azrael turned to Moody and shrugged his shoulders. "NOW WHAT?"

"Somebody help Granger and revive Malfoy. What's your name, Black?" the gruff teacher growled.

"NAOS; FRIENDS CALL ME RAZAEL."

Moody's magical eye swivelled in its socket and Azrael could tell he was looking through the boy's cloak and shirt at the scars and markings. "Tell me what spell you used, son."

"I DIDN'T. I NEVER DO," answered Azrael quickly.

"And your wand?"

"DON'T HAVE ONE."

Then Moody spoke much louder so that everyone in the class could hear, "Out of curiosity, do you think you could take on more than just one of your classmates, Black?"

Azrael looked thoughtful and then nodded.

"Good, I'd like five volunteers. People who want to throw spells at Black here." Many more hands shot up at the mention of this.

"Goyle, Malfoy, Finnegan, Thomas and Zabini. Think you can still take them?" he asked Azrael who once again nodded.

"Okay lads. Take aim. No curses that can cause permanent damage or maim Black and no Unforgivables. Start on three. One, two, three!"

The area surrounding Azrael went up in smoke as the spells were cast. Everyone searched the room but couldn't find any trace of Azrael when all five boys suddenly dropped to the floor sleeping. He became visible again, standing behind Moody and tapped his teacher on the shoulder, making the paranoid former-auror spin on his heel and rapidly fire off a string of curses that were all absorbed by Azrael's body. Moody stopped at once and stared at the boy flabbergasted.

"DONE?"

"Stay after class, Black. Sit down." Moody didn't _sound_ mad but then again, looks could be deceiving. Class continued for another hour until the bell rang for lunch.

"Tell me Black, what experience do you have with DADA so far?"

"NOT SURE. HAD AN ACCIDENT BEFORE TERM STARTED AND I DON'T REMEMBER ANYTHING," the fiery words faded within seconds as Azrael looked at Moody.

"How do you do your spells?"

"NO SPELLS. I JUST THINK OF SOMETHING AND WILL IT TO HAPPEN."

"I'd reckon with power like that that you'd be more powerful than the Headmaster when properly trained."

"SORTING HAT SAID I WAS DIFFERENT. HASN'T SEEN ANYTHING LIKE ME IN ALL ITS YEARS. SAID I NEED TO SORT OUT MY MEMORIES."

"I'd also reckon that the Sorting Hat knows a thing or two." Azrael simply nodded in agreement. "I think you should have private lessons where someone can show you possible spells to give you ideas. If you do that, you'd probably be done DADA and Transfiguration by the end of this year. You could spend more time on other subjects for your next three years. Would you be interested in private tutelage in DADA, Charms and/or Transfiguration?"

"ALL, PLEASE."

Moody nodded. "Good. Kids like you would be an asset to the ministry's auror team. Now run along. I will talk with Professors Snape and Dumbledore."

"THANK YOU, SIR."

Azrael turned and strode out the door to make his long walk down to the dungeons. He remembered his promise to Professor Snape about telling him when he used the disappearing and reappearing and made a detour to his Head of House's office. Azrael knocked at the door and heard his teacher call, "Enter."

He opened the door and entered, shutting the door behind him. 'Hey, you told me to tell you when I was in the habit of disappearing and reappearing,' he projected to the dark figure that was turned away from him, perusing a shelf behind his desk.

"Yes, I did say that," replied Snape in a neutral tone. "And?"

'Defence class, just before lunch. It was me against Goyle, Malfoy, Zabini and the two Gryffindors Thomas and Finnegan. I disappeared in a cloud of smoke to distract everyone and willed them all to drop to sleep where they stood. I ended up kicking in Moody's auror instincts when I snuck up on him and tapped him on the shoulder. Of course he fired of four spells at me before he realized it was me...'

"Are you alright Ángel?"

Azrael smiled and took his seat like he had before and waited for his Head of House to sit down. 'Yes. My body seemed to absorb it. I wasn't prepared which kind of freaked me out. I didn't know I could do that. I mean, I didn't even think of protecting myself from it.'

"Interesting. Do you mind telling me why you were fighting off several of your classmates in the first place?" Snape sat and leaned forward in his seat.

'Moody had Granger throw a body-bind at me and told me to defend myself. I grabbed the spell and threw it over my shoulder and blasted her into the wall. I figured that it was satisfactory defence. Moody made a bit of a challenge and spectacle out of it though. After he told me to stay after and I explained how my magic works, leaving out that I'm not technically a wizard and a lot of what I told you.

'He said I should pursue private tutelage for DADA, Charms and Transfiguration as they are the ones that require spell work. He'll probably contact you and Dumbledore soon. I just need someone to give me ideas and demonstrate things and I can pick it up from there. Moody then proceeded to say that I should join the aurors once finished my education, which I think I will decline. I'm not too inclined to fight other wizards and fill out reports as a career.'

"I wonder what you could do with your magic. You could probably heal magical ailments and maladies."

'Like what?'

Severus Snape tilted his head to the side and rested it in the palm of his hand as he sat back in his chair. "How about something like lycanthropy or vampirism; what if you could cure those."

'Wouldn't curing a vampire require necromantic abilities though? Aren't they technically dead and curing them would just make them extra dead?' Azrael grinned at his ignorance. 'Sorry, that must've given you a reminder that you're talking to a not-fully educated youth of fourteen. I'm still ignorant of many things.'

Snape let out a quiet laugh that Azrael mental thought suited the man around twenty years his senior. 'Did you hear?'

"Hear what, exactly? There are always things to be heard in Hogwarts so you must be more specific."

'My roommates named me and signed me into their "brotherhood" of sorts.'

"And they so dubbed you...?"

'Azrael. Kane saw that the tattoo on my arm had finished and it says Azrael. Xavier mentioned something about an archangel, which got me thinking more and more. I have a pair of wings on my back and the Latin on my abdominals translates to something about heaven and hell.' Snape gave Azrael a quizzical look. 'It's easier if I can just show you. I find it always works.'

"Are you in the habit of stripping off your clothes for others, Ángel, or should I be calling you Azrael?" Severus was definitely mocking him.

'I think I like to differentiate between people with different names. Sirius and Remus call me Pup, Cub and Naos, my roommates call me Azrael, people who don't know me call me Naos or any variation of Mr Black, but you understand a bit more than others. I don't mind if you call me Ángel.' Azrael felt the potion master's gaze soften with his words.

'So can I show you? You might be able to make heads or tails of this mess,' he suggested to Severus mentally.

"By all means... Who am I to stop you from stripping off your clothes in front of Hogwarts' most feared professor?"

'I don't get why they think you're scary. I mean, we're all just people, aren't we. You might be a bit moody but not frightening.' As Azrael took off his robe and his shirt he didn't notice Snape's eyes narrow with heated anger on the pink criss-crossing scars.

"Promise me that you don't know what happened to you," he seethed.

The youth focused his attention and realized what was happening. Snape was coming around the desk and grabbed his forearm to lift it for inspection. 'What?'

"I said you better promise me that you don't know who did this to you."

A nod from the boy only earned him a piercing stare, 'I promise. If I remember, you'll be the first to know.'

"These look like chains..."

'X suggested-'

"I know what Xavier suggested, and he's not far off!" snapped the older Slytherin. His harsh tone failed to cover his obvious concern.

'Were you abused as a child?'

Black eyes met Azrael's green ones, he felt a sort of tugging in his mind and it felt like someone was in his mind – his first taste of Legilimency. Then Snape hit a wall in Azrael's mind. 'I think that's from the amnesia,' he thought to Snape in his own mind. He could feel Snape's mental nod and felt his potion's professor trying to chip away at the wall.

Suddenly, Snape pulled back and was out of his thoughts. Azrael swayed a bit before steadying himself against the arm of the chair he had previously occupied. 'Needed to make sure, I'm guessing.'

The teacher shook his head affirmative and looked away. "My father was abusive to me and my mother when I was a child and since then I have developed a sense of sensitivity for such cases in my own house now."

'Thanks for caring, sir.'

"What were you saying about your markings again?"

'Oh yeah, there are three of them that seem to have a connection of an angelic nature.'

"Yes," Snape mused, "the Latin is a reference to heaven and hell. The name Azrael is the name of the Archangel of Death, another contradiction. And finally the wings... they look real like an angel's but have imperfections. The Sorting Hat said you weren't human, right?"

'No, it said that I wasn't a wizard but I had magical ability so it sorted me anyways. It asked me to tell it what I was once I figured it out because I'm the first one that it's encountered.'

"You said that these just appear with time?" verified Severus with a look of deep thought on his face. "Put your clothing back on."

'Yeah, they darken with time until they're fully there.'

"I can tell you now that I'm theorizing that you're some type of Fallen Angel. There is a name for it but it is escaping me at the moment. I will get back to you with that." Professor Snape lounged back in his chair, gaze fixed over his desk at his pupil with his fingers tips together in the shape of a temple. "Anything else while you're here?"

'This has to be some sort of record. The most amount of time that Professor Snape has spent with a student without wanting to kill them or kicking them out of his office.' Azrael laughed at the thought before something else came to mind. 'Oh! I don't think it's safe for me to do a potion today. I have yet to distinguish asphodel from wormwood.'

"They're the same thing," the professor deadpanned.

'Oh... see! I need help. Names are so different. Even people's names look really different than how I would spell them. I think I spoke English as a second language. I'm not sure though because my toddler memories only have distorted shouting from a whale-like man and I can still understand what everyone is saying in English. Do I have an accent?'

"You have a slight twinge to your voice that isn't British but you speak English as if you've known it for a long time. Anyways, off topic. Your mind switches thought trains too often, child. I will excuse you from today's class but you are to see me after classes every day this week to help you with ingredient distinguishing and you will brew your potions then."

'Thanks. I've gotta run now so I can get some lunch.'

Azrael disappeared into thin air again and made it to the Great Hall to sit with his roommates and eat a late lunch.


	8. Chapter 7: The Reports

Chapter 7: The Reports

December 14th, 1997

The fire in Albus Dumbledore's fireplace flared green and out stepped one of Naos Black's guardians, Remus Lupin. He was here for a progress report due to the specially structured education that Naos was receiving. Sirius, however had come down with a slight cold and stayed home.

"Remus, I trust that you are well and ready for the Christmas season?"

The lycanthrope nodded and exchanged his hello's too before taking a seat on the red upholstered chaise across from the headmaster's grand desk.

"So, how has my boy been doing? He's not one for writing letters home and floo is rendered useless to him with him being mute," Remus briefly explained.

"Yes, but even so he seems to have wriggled his self into the lives of quite a few people here. His studies make him work very closely with Professor Snape and he has successfully finished all DADA and Charms studies and over half of the Transfiguration curriculum for all remaining years. He usually uses his extra periods to practice for Quidditch games and with Professor Snape in the potions classes that he is teaching."

"He's already finished two full courses?" Remus smiled with pride at the child's accomplishments. "I didn't know that Severus was apprenticing him."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "He's not."

"Are you saying that Severus voluntarily lets Sirius' child of all people just drop in to his classes?" He was gobsmacked at the idea.

"I told you that he wormed his way into others' lives. Naos isn't one to socialize with others his own age either and has been spending most of his free time with various teachers, getting ahead in Potions, Herbology and Runes or just by himself. He rooms with the sixth year Slytherins and they gave him the nickname Azrael after one of his tattoos."

Remus smiled, "He wrote me about that."

"I have to say though, a mentorship with Professor Snape would be beneficial for him but both declined as Severus doesn't think he needs an apprentice and Naos doesn't think he wants to be a potions master. With his skills and ability to absorb knowledge however, he could do anything. He will go far with his life," Dumbledore complimented.

* * *

January 9th, 1998

"Has Severus said anything about Azrael?" Remus begged of Albus from his seat across the grand desk in the red chair. "While he was home, he wouldn't sleep well and refused potions. I was at a complete loss for what to do about it and I'm hoping that returning hasn't made his nights worse," the werewolf's nerves were like the unforgiving heads of a hydra thrashing about. He was genuinely concerned for the boy's wellbeing even though he had only seen him for about twenty-five days, give or take, within his life.

Albus smiled, "It seems that you have beaten me to a topic of conversation, Remus. Severus came here to tea on Thursday evening and had to leave early because he was to make a potion for Azrael actually. He had confronted the boy upon returning and noted his withering look. Azrael simply asked Severus if he would make him a sleeping draught and tell him the correct dosages."

"I think he doesn't trust Sirius. He doesn't distrust him but he hasn't taken a shine to him yet either. Sirius is so excited to attend his next Quidditch game and bond with him. He truly dotes on him like a proud father. Az hasn't been around long but he gives Sirius something to look forward to."

Remus got a far-away look in his eyes as he remembered this past Christmas. The house hadn't been so festive since before James and Lily died in the fire. Then Harry had been abducted from his Aunt and Uncle's house two months before Remus could once again apply for adoption and Sirius had seemed more heart-broken about it because he had not been there.

So many hurts and regrets were washed away by this young boy's appearance in their lives. Sirius said it felt like having another mini-Marauder around, but he knew that Sirius only saw another Prongslet – another chance at doing everything right for Harry. Everything that couldn't have been done for the child before; everything Sirius had failed the boy that had been as much his own son as it had been James' in. This was his only second chance.

"Our boy is an enigma isn't he?" Remus asked rhetorically, coming back to himself.

"I'm sure Severus thinks so. I'd wager that one of them will change their mind about a mentorship or apprenticeship." Dumbledore had a twinkle in his electric blue eyes.

Remus shook his head with a cough to cover his laughter, "I would be a fool to bet against you, Albus. Severus is an intelligent and selfless person from what I've gathered on him over the years. If he believes that Azrael would benefit from apprenticing under him, I know he would push the boy to do it. Plus he's definitely talking with him. That means he trusts Severus."

Albus nodded appraisingly at Remus' observations, "I think you would be correct. Is it safe to assume then that if Azrael were to choose to mentor or even apprentice with Severus that you would support him?"

A sigh came from the younger man in the room. His voice was low when he spoke, "I would miss him already but if it is good for him, if he wants it and if it will make him happy, I would agree. Technically, I can't make that decision though. Sirius hasn't held a grudge against Severus for several years now but I doubt he would easily sign away his only chance at a son to him if Azrael wanted an apprenticeship. I know it would mean that he stays with Severus most of the time until his contract is up unless both parties agree to terminate it and unfortunately, so does Sirius. I can only pray to Merlin that if or when that happens that Sirius will do the right thing for Az."

The tea leaves in Remus' tea cup lay cold in the bottom of the cup. Remus could only stare and wonder what Sirius would do.

* * *

February 22nd, 1998

Azrael sat up in bed with a cold sweat on his skin and silent scream stuck in his throat. His dreams had brought three flashbacks, one of glowing orange chains being forged into his skin at a very young age before he passed out with pain, a voice soothing him and brown eyes of a young boy staring into his own promising him peace and the final had been a burst of pain and a ring of fire. A boy his own age was shouting for him – his brother. Azrael had to go get Severus.

He faded out of his bed and into Severus' office and knocked loudly on the painting that he knew led to Severus' quarters. He heard a distinct shuffling of tired feet and the painting opened to reveal Severus in a black silk pyjama set.

The man saw Azrael and immediately knew something was wrong and ushered him into his rooms without a word, settling him on the couch and summoning a calming draught.

'I have a brother. He has brown eyes like dark chocolate and is a bit bigger than me. He's technically older I believe... and the scars. They _were_ chains. They were forged into my arms when I was about three or four I think. They kept me anchored to a cave wall for I don't know how long by myself.

'Then, I saw my brother's eyes. He was telling me it was going to be alright but he wasn't speaking English. Then I saw him again when we were older and there was a fire – a ring of fire surrounded me and all I remember is excruciating pain like I was on fire too but I wasn't. I promised I would tell you first Sev.'

"Are you alright?" the words came out like a useless reflex. Of course the boy wasn't alright. He was shaking, both physically and mentally. "Come here, Ángel," he said in a whisper and held open his arms to the quivering mess of a boy.

Azrael moved into the arms of his friend and curled up on his lap. The room stayed silent except for the cracks and pops emitted from the low-burning fire that the house elves tended to every few hours. Severus felt the smooth breathing from underneath his chin, warm breath rhythmically caressing his pale and customarily covered collar bone.

* * *

March 21st, 1998

It had happened again. Azrael had Severus worried sick about his well-being. During Quidditch the previous day, the young spitfire had performed a professional-level Wronski Feint during the game and pulled it off with the Snitch in his hand and the game won for the Slytherins. The part that had been detrimental to his health was when he suddenly keeled over sideways off his broom and without a single sound plummeted to the ground.

Severus, being the observant watcher, or as Azrael called him "friend", he immediately cast slowing and cushioning charms before trying, and succeeding, at catching him with a levitating spell before he hit the ground. Several rushed to him but couldn't move past an invisible force field of sorts. He too, quickened his pace to the Quidditch grounds from his place in the bleachers.

Azrael had been shaking on the ground almost like a seizure. Everyone was at a loss, including Sirius who had come to watch the game. Severus felt everything disappear before him as he stared in horror at his Ángel in what seemed to be slow motion.

The barrier fell for only a moment and Severus rushed in before fire replaced the force field. A twister-like wind storm spun the fire around Azrael and Severus and an inhuman cry pierced the air around them. Everything stopped suddenly and it was over with Azrael shaking on the ground, tears rolling down his flushed face without restraint.

The boy was now resting in Severus' large, warm bed and under constant watch from the potions master himself. He worked on bases for his sixth and seventh years' potions classes and checked on Azrael every twenty minutes, but if the older man was honest with himself, he actually went to the doorway to see that the child was still sleeping before hurrying back into his lab to do the next step in his brewing.

"Oh, Merlin," sighed Severus as he sat before the fire with a tumbler of fire whiskey sometime in the wee hours of the morning.

A muted creaking behind Severus alerted him to movement in the bedroom. In a swirl of black robes, the man briskly walked on light feet to the bedroom door, depositing his tumbler on the coffee table on the way. Azrael had his torso raised off the bed with his head in his hands, rubbing his forehead. "Ángel."

The emerald orbs opened and focused in on the slim figure casting a shadow into the bedroom. 'Where am I?'

"My bed actually. What happened?"

'Tell you later. I need sleep and this bed is too big. How can you sleep with so much room? Get in here with me.' Azrael sounded genuinely confused and disoriented.

A chuckle came from the dark figure. "I'm afraid I can't do that."

'Yes you can. Take off your cloak and lay down on the bed. It's as simple as that.'

Severus shook his head as he approached Azrael and kneeled at his side of the bed. "It's not appropriate conduct of a teacher to crawl into bed with a student."

'We've already crossed that line when I fell asleep in your lap a few weeks ago. I wanna see where it says in the Hogwarts rules that two friends can't cuddle.'

"You said sleep and now you want to cuddle?"

'Yes! Now get in here. Your bed is too big and the plan is to cuddle so that the bed doesn't seem so big.'

"How would-?"

'Shush. You talk too much, Sev. Come here already. I'm cold.

After another three minutes of arguing with an incoherent, Severus Snape lay in his bed under the black satin sheets and front-to-front with a clingy Azrael. "How do you talk me into things, Ángel?"

'How don't I,' was his received saucy yet sleepy reply from Azrael.

The next morning, Azrael explained what happened from his point of view. More flashbacks had flooded his mind after he did the Wronski Feint. Apparently him and his brother were trained from a young age to play Quidditch for a professional league team. Imagine that. Azrael said that he didn't remember anything after he pulled out of the Feint except for the vision.

Severus had quickly complimented his trick play before threatening to, "Be careful or I'll remove your 'professional' self from the Quidditch team."


	9. Chapter 8: The Manifestations

Chapter 8: The Manifestation

May 8th, 1998

The swirl of his black robes as he moved made it look like this well-choreographed dance was often done by the snarky potions professor. Currently, Azrael was supposed to have been reviewing last-minute DADA and Potions notes for his OWL exams to take place over the next three days. After, he would sit three more days worth of NEWT examinations. Due to him taking his Potion's OWL this year, Severus had allowed him to sit off to the side of his private laboratory, which no one besides Severus himself under any circumstances was to enter, and study for his exam in case he had questions.

Severus had had an internal debate against himself for about ten minutes before giving in to his more affectionate side and offered to let Azrael study in his private lab. The young boy had yet to disturb him and had been unnaturally quiet so Severus turned around to see the child watching him with a mixed look.

"What are you thinking Ángel?" Azrael shivered slightly as the pet name rolled off of Severus's normally sharp tongue in a tone of light affection and concern.

A shake of his head preceded Azrael's explanation, 'I'm thinking that you would be a proficient dancer should you choose to pursue such an avenue as a hobby.'

Severus' eyebrows knitted together in confusion. How could a boy come to such conclusions? "Are you studying?"

'Yes, but I think watching you is more entertaining. I keep trying to guess what potions you are making by what you put into each cauldron. I haven't been able to guess all of them but it looks like you are making Pepper Up for Madame Pomfrey and I think my nose detects Amortentia to your left.'

"And pray tell," Severus began, "what does Amortentia smell like to you?"

The youth before Severus looked thoughtful. His mouth opened once or twice like he was debating on making a vocal answer before meeting his gaze and projecting, 'Now thinking of it, I think it smells like you and my brother's room.'

"What do you mean 'I think'?"

'Well, I know that I smell fresh herbs, sandalwood and vanilla which is what you always smell like and then the other part of the smell reminds me of freshly laundered pale red linens and two open French doors to a balcony and floors made of beige marble. I can remember jumping over a figure and onto the bed and I see brown eyes and short hair as dark as mine. Then I go blank. I think it's my brother and it's in his room.'

Both men were quiet before sound permeated Severus' mind, 'Is that a bad thing?'

"Is what bad," Severus asked in confusion.

'Is it bad that I love the smell of my brother's room? I mean, I get why I smell you because you bring me the most comfort I know. Oh, don't tell Sirius that. It would crush him.'

"I won't but I don't think it's a bad thing. Maybe he brought you comfort and that's where you felt safest before."

Azrael nodded and went back to his work briefly before turning back to Severus, 'Would you mentor me, Sev?'

"Why would you want that?" he asked as he watched the potion he was stirring carefully.

'It would be beneficial to both of us. For me, I'd get to learn from you and progress more quickly through Potions and my other classes and that way I would live with you.'

Severus laughed, "I think you're confusing the word 'would' with 'could'. And where are the benefits for me in that list Ángel?"

A roll of eyes from the inky-haired teen made Severus feel like he was missing something. 'No, I'm not confusing anything. I know that mentored students _can_ live with their mentors, but I already know I _would_ live with you and that would be a benefit for you.'

"And how do you know this?" All these questions made Severus feel like he was the student and not the overly-qualified teacher instead of the other way around.

'Because, Severus Snape, you are a smart man and know what's good for you. Somewhere inside of you, you know that having me around all the time would make you feel better than you are now.' The twinkle in Azrael's eyes was reminiscent of Albus Dumbledore's damned twinkling eyes. 'Plus we both know you're actually a softie and love me more than anything else.'

Severus let out a barking laugh. "I don't think you should assume things, Mr Black."

Azrael frowned at him and turned back to his books. Severus turned back to his potions, happy to have won a debate against the boy for once. The sound of books closing and papers shuffling made him turn around to see Azrael packing up his things. This made Severus internally panic. What had he said or done?

"What are you doing?"

'Leaving.'

"Why?" Severus left little space between himself and Azrael's workspace.

Azrael closed his final book with unnecessary gusto. 'Because your ignorance and attitude is grating on me. I'm obviously not wanted at the moment. I don't need you to spell it out in chalk on the blackboard for me like everyone else.'

The older man blocked the boy's only way out of the room on instinct. "What the hell does that mean?"

'It means,' Azrael started mentally shouting, 'that you've got to stop sticking your head up your arse just because I can read your fucking feelings better than you can emit or realize them yourself! You can't turn on me like that! I'm not Mr Black, not to you. I never want to be.'

"I love you." The words were not spoken by Severus.

Azrael sighed and closed his eyes, raking his fingers through his hair before looking back at Severus. His friend was in shock. 'Oops. I didn't mean to project that.'

"You didn't project it," Severus stuttered. "You spoke."

'I always speak. What are you talking about?' Azrael was confused.

"You spoke. Like everyone else does. Your voice was scratchy and you have a heavy accent too. Merlin, you can talk! Did you know?"

'I guessed that I might but I was afraid at first. Then it became habit to be quiet. I don't like talking to people my age. If I spoke like you and everyone else, it would only serve to encourage them to converse with me.'

"And now?"

'I like things how they are. It's more personal. You understand, right?'

Severus nodded. "I understand. Just a question though. Can you think of anything to say that makes sense but isn't English?"

A negative shake of his head silenced all of Severus' investigating. He would keep this to himself. "Will you stay?"

'Are you going to be an arse to me?'

Severus hung his head and offered open arms to the boy whom accepted the gesture and hugged the professor fiercely. "I'm sorry Ángel. I'm not used to others knowing me as well as you do. It's unnerving."

'Imagine that. Most fear professor of Hogwarts is unnerved by something.' Azrael completed his prod with a Snape-patented smirk.

"So are you going to keep studying?"

'No, but I think I'll stay until you're done. We can have a cup of tea and I'll keep you awake and pretend to fall asleep before you can send me away tonight so that I have to stay here.'

A sigh came from the older man, "Do I get any say?"

'I honestly don't think you want any say otherwise you would've had me out of here by now.'

"Are you going to attempt to cuddle with me again?"

'What do you mean attempt? I thought I was quite successful when you snuggled back last time. You're just afraid to admit that you like it and by extension, me.'

"Do you want me to mentor you?"

'More than anything else right now... well besides passing my OWLs and NEWTs over the next few days. After that it will be what I want most.'

"I'll think about it."

At those last words, Severus found himself jolted back a pace by the force at which Azrael had flung himself at the tall, stoic man. 'Thank you.'

* * *

May 17th, 1998

After five days of sitting Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, Muggle Studies, Arithmancy, History of Magic and Divination OWLs were finished and then another three days of Charms, Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions and Care of Magical Creatures NEWTs, Azrael was exhausted. Currently, he was the youngest student yet to sit OWLs, NEWTs and have the possibility of graduating after only one year in attendance.

Severus joked that he was setting the proverbial bar high for upcoming scholars. Plus he was a professionally trained Quidditch player to boot. Such achievements, in Severus' opinion, didn't emanate normalcy.

Azrael shook his head. He seemed to be thinking about Severus and what he said more and more as time progressed. It was probably because he was closest to him and was counting on him for several things. Mostly just companionship and hopefully the slender man would grant him his plea for a mentorship.

The manifestation of thoughts of Severus at that moment might also have been contributed to the fact that he practically lived in Severus' apartments in his free time. At present he was reading a book whilst lounging on the black satin bedding of Severus' large bed. He laid back against the pillows and felt pure exhaustion course through him. In a split-second decision, Azrael decided that he would take a short nap. As soon as he relaxed with his head against the pillows, he peacefully fell into a slumber.

The potions master of Hogwarts had just finished berating a child for their miscalculations and causing a small explosion in his classroom. Now he would have to deal with accident reports and cataloguing scorched chairs and tables for repair and resurfacing. Not everything could be set right with an _evanesco_ and _repairo_ as most students liked to believe.

He was overrun with frustration at having to teach such imbeciles and wasting time and expensive ingredients on snivelling little brats. He went straight for his bedroom once in his private quarters. His thoughts trailed off however once he had taken off his contaminated robes and noticed the angelic figure curled up on his bed. Such perfection was hard to find.

Severus slowly crawled onto the bed, careful not to jostle Azrael any, and lay beside him, just watching the child. How could anyone or anything in their right mind want to be around such a snarky and ill-tempered person as Severus was? He pondered such a thought for a while before putting an arm around the person whom he cared about most. When he woke, he would tell Azrael that he had the paperwork for a mentorship and only needed signing. If it made him happy, Severus would be happy.

The only thing that either of them had to worry about was Sirius and possibly Remus as a side-note. Only time would tell what was to come.

* * *

June 20th, 1998

It had taken one attempted discussion from Severus, three talks with Professor Dumbledore, and countless debates against Remus to get Sirius to agree to let Snape mentor his 'son'. Everyone, however, agreed that Sirius finally cracking was actually from Azrael giving Sirius the silent treatment for five hours once he arrived home from the Hogwarts Express. He had snubbed Sirius, avoiding his touch and not bothering to project or write out thoughts to him as punishment. Sirius had been enraged and eventually knocked over the coffee table and shouted at him to grow up. Azrael blatantly ignored his outburst and excused himself.

When he heard a knock at his door later, Sirius walked in, still ignored, and apologized before giving up and agreeing to the mentorship if it meant that Azrael would just look at him again. His son had given him a smile and hugged him. The received, 'Thanks Padfoot,' was a reward in itself to Sirius as Azrael had yet to call him anything but Sirius.

Azrael grinned and immediately produced the papers out of thin air and a self-inking quill.

He had spent a few weeks with them after the signing when he stated that he missed Severus and wanted to go visit him. They were doing research on werewolf genes though they didn't tell Remus or Sirius that. If Severus' theory was correct, he might be able to cure lycanthropy by knowing how the werewolf gene was imbedded in different parts of the body. Such a cure was invaluable to their society as so many werewolves thought their genetic mutation a curse and wanted it to be removed at almost any cost.

Upon his arrival at Spinner's End, Azrael had launched himself at his best friend and hugged him as close as possible. Severus had gaped at the signed papers and now understood where they had disappeared to from his desk top. The day the papers had disappeared, and every day since, he had been wracking his memory and searching everywhere for them. "I hope you know I've been looking high and low for these everyday now." Both men laughed at the revelation.

For days, Azrael had been studying blood patterns, DNA mutations and magical core changes as well as physical changes in the subject case studies. By the end of their third day, both were werewolfed out.

At eleven o'clock at night both decided to turn in, both going to their respective rooms. Severus had thoughtfully gotten Azrael a smaller bed to make him feel better during his stay and such simple sentiments were appreciated. By the time both were in bed, they were both fast asleep.

Through the dark of the night Azrael heard a scream come from the other room. The sound was that of pain and fright and immediately he found himself flinging open Severus' door and on the bed making sure he was okay. Severus was gasping and holding his chest in pain. He stopped shaking then and relaxed back against the linens.

"What the bloody hell was that? My chest kills," Severus commented without waiver in his voice.

'Let me see.'

Azrael moved closer with his hands out.

"What?"

'Lift up your pyjama shirt and show me where it hurts. I can help.'

Severus gave him a worn out look and acquiesced to his request. 'Oh my... I'm so sorry Sev. I'm so sorry... Shit. Can't all this crap end with me.'

"What are you mind-babbling about Ángel?"

Severus glanced at his chest momentarily before flinging himself out of bed and looking at himself in his full-length mirror. There was a black heart with angel wings curled around it almost in a protective manner. Underneath it in delicate cursive was "Azrael" written as plain as day.

'I'm sorry Sev. I should...'

Azrael had been heading to the doors to leave but Severus pulled him back and hugged him. "It's not your fault Ángel. We need to figure out what is going on though."

Azrael gave a timid nod and projected, 'Can I stay with you?' With a nod, Severus lifted the blankets for Azrael to crawl under with him.

Unknown to the two wizards in England, Viktor Krum too awoke screaming in pain at a second past midnight on the morning of the twenty first as well. He too shared the same strange tattoo over his heart. Such a revelation renewed his hope that his brother was still alive under the name Azrael possibly. He immediately went to his parents and told them of the occurrence.


	10. Chapter 9: The Cure

Chapter 9: The Cure

July 13, 1998

'I'm not sure if I can do this.'

"You can and you will."

'Are you going to force me?' Azrael asked taken aback at Severus' tone.

"No," he reassured his companion with a light touch to the small of his back, guiding him towards the hospital room at the end of the ward. Several Healers were waiting outside and inside the room to monitor and observe this 'operation' so to speak. "I just know you and once you see that man in the bed, you will want to help him. I guarantee it."

'Can I have a hug?'

Severus looked into the questioning eyes and held his arms open. The former's response was immediate and heartfelt. 'Thank you. My nerves are a little frazzled.'

"Frazzled? What kind of word is that?"

'A legitimate one; Look it up.'

Azrael took a few deep breaths and strode determined into the room. He assessed the situation: 57 year-old wizard, lycanthrope, dying due to lung failure. He had a 8% chance of surviving the next moon change but a 80% chance or higher of surviving if he wasn't a werewolf. The man had heard of the boy's talents and agreed to let him try his best, since he was to die within the month anyways. He had no family since he was a social pariah as a werewolf and no pack as they had left him for dead after a hippogriff attack. All wounds had been healed but his wolf instincts wouldn't let them do a surgery so close to his heart with fighting anaesthetics.

Azrael changed into Healer's robes and was disinfected upon his arrival. He explained the procedure via mind frequency and all persons except himself, Severus as his voice (since it was automatic now for him to project to Severus' mind), the patient and the five upper-ranked Healers standing along the side wall.

Most of the procedure was silent with Severus narrating what Azrael was doing as par their research. First he willed the cells to detach from the man's magical core, replacing it with the genetic ability of an animagus. Then he willed away the werewolf hormones flooding through the man's system and the genetic quirk from all DNA strands in the body.

'Okay, now for the lung. Tell him to relax and hold his breath on the count of ten. Count for me.'

"He said to relax and on the count of ten, hold your breath Mr Thompson. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine and ten; hold it," he instructed.

Azrael closed his eyes and held his hand over the lung area and willed everything to be set right. The man gasped and dragged in a heavy breath after the area being healed had stopped glowing beneath Azrael's hand. "Oh my... thank you. I haven't felt like this since I was twenty-three!" The man glanced at his arms and ran his hand down his hospital gown.

Severus smirked. The patient's file declared that the man had been turned at the age of twenty-five. So far, it had been a success. "We recommend that you stay here for at least a week. You may experience loss of stamina that went with being a werewolf and loss of excess bodily hair. You can now become a werewolf as an animagus but it will be more like being on a stronger version of the Wolfsbane potion. You will retain your mind and memories like any animagus during such changes and please notify us through the St Mungo's Research Division if any questions or problems arise."

The other Healers verified the results and were baffled. A boy still in school could do something no one else could. Each one of them shook his and Severus' hands in congratulations and the two men left after being reassured that their names wouldn't be put in the media yet.

Once finally at home in Spinner's End, the two raised their tumblers of brandy in a celebratory toast to the success of their project. Such an achievement definitely warranted a stiff drink and some laughs. Azrael smiled and listened as Severus told him funny stories about his own mentorship and training to be a Potions Master.

He regaled the boy with tales of his erratic mentor and the man's strangest habits. He had thought the man a complete nutter, but his mentor's potion-making techniques were precise and always triple checked before making the carefully calculated experiment. That night Severus didn't argue when Azrael slipped into bed beside him and continued to talk until both fell into an alcohol-induced slumber.

* * *

July 14th, 1998

The next morning, Azrael was awoken by the sound of a knock on the door across the hall. "Hello? Az? You here? He's not in here Remus. Where could he be?" Azrael concluded that he must've been dreaming of hearing Sirius' voice and his head throbbed in a massive hangover. To remedy the throbbing meant that he'd have to get out of bed and go look for the vial of hangover cure in Severus' medicine cabinet. As lovely as that idea was, he decided to snuggle closer to Severus and wrapped his arm around the pale man for warmth.

There was a knock at Severus' door and he then heard Remus' voice, "Severus? Are you in there?"

"Yes," the deep voice below Azrael grumbled.

The door opened and immediately slammed shut. "You know, Sirius, I think we should wait for them downstairs," Remus said too quickly.

"Why? And what do you mean _them_? Is Azrael _in there_?" Sirius was furious.

Remus stuttered, "I'm sure there's a logical reason."

"Let me through!"

"No, Siri-!"

The door slammed against the wall and the bedroom was stormed into by Sirius with Remus behind him looking helpless. Severus sat up in bed, pushing Azrael to the side and shouted, "Black get out of my room!"

"Not without my son!"

Sirius tore at the bed and almost punched Severus in the face when he dropped to the floor writhing in pain. Everyone looked around and saw Azrael on the opposite side of the bed covering his mouth in shock and horror. Tears glistened in his eyes. "I didn't mean to..." he whispered before fleeing to Severus' en suite bathroom and the door locked with an audible click.

The pale man still on the bed ran is hand across his eyes in unmasked distress. "Shit. Why did you have to come in now? It would've been better if you had talked to him first." Severus flung the bedding off of his bed and walked to the bathroom door. "Ángel."

'Don't come in. I'm so ashamed and confused. I didn't mean to- I would never hurt Padfoot. He came at you and I – he – it wasn't possible. He couldn't hurt you. I felt like he had to suffer. What have I done?' Sobbing was plainly heard coming from the bathroom floor.

"He didn't mean to. He said he would never hurt Padfoot."

Remus was gaping at the black-haired man. "Did you know he could speak?"

"I've only heard it once. No more than three words. He was under a lot of emotional stress then too," Snape concluded dismissively.

"What happened then?"

Severus made a sour faced. "I was being a complete arse and he set me straight. Moving on. Is Black alright?"

Sirius was pulling himself up in a sitting position with Remus' help, "What do you care? You're the one taking advantage of my son behind my back. This is pedophilia!"

"It is not! No such incidents have occurred and will not! How dare you accuse not only me but your son of such a thing?" Severus took a deep breath and massaged his temples. "I think this is a side-effect of the manifestation."

"What manifestation? Has Azrael gained another?"

Severus shook his head. "No. It was me. I think it tied us together somehow. I think that's why he attacked you unconsciously, Black."

"You're bluffing."

"Sadly, I'm not." The accused male undid the top few buttons of his pyjama shirt and pulled the lapel to the side so that his tattoo was visible. "It occurred at the first stroke of the Summer Solstice. It hurt like seven bloody quaffles to the chest too. Give me a moment."

Finally, Severus gained entrance to the bathroom and held Azrael close, assuring him that Sirius and Remus still loved him. Plus, he had to come out of the bathroom so he could tell Remus that he could be cured now.

Azrael agree and was all but pushed out of the bathroom by Severus. He ran to Sirius and wrapped his arms around his neck. 'I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.'

Sirius stroked his son's hair. "It's alright pup. I love you. I know it wasn't on purpose. Just settle down and talk to me." Az pulled away and Sirius continued. "I want an honest answer now. Why were you in Severus' bed and has it happened before?"

His son nodded slowly. 'It's a comfort thing. I'm not a wizard, I'm a creature and my creature says he's safe. I'm inclined to be near him, well when he's in a good mood, anyways, and we're friends. I swear that he's not taking advantage of me or the other way around.'

"Fine, get dressed and we'll meet you two downstairs," Sirius declared as he let go of his son and headed for the door.

Once Remus and Sirius had left and the door shut behind them Severus sagged into the wall. "It's a good thing you're adorable, otherwise this would've been a lot harder."

'What would've been harder?'

"Convincing Sirius that you're not getting buggered every night."

'Technically I didn't say that at all. I said that we weren't being taken advantage of one or the other. If it's consensual, no one has the advantage.'

"Don't let Sirius hear you say that..."

'Say what?' Azrael feigned a look of innocence.

"Exactly."

* * *

"So, what's in the Prophet today?"

Sirius held out the Daily Prophet he had been reading and displayed the cover story "WEREWOLF GETS CURED IN A DAY – UNKNOWN HEALER IN HIGH DEMAND" to Severus and Azrael. "It says that a wizard in his fifties was healed of his lycanthropy in a day and the very same healer also fixed his other medical issues within the hour."

"It's sure to be a hoax," Remus spoke quietly. "Just another person rubbing the existence of our disease in our faces and making a mockery of us."

"It's not a hoax," Severus said as he poured two more cups of tea and added sugar to Azrael's cup before passing it to him like a practiced ritual.

"And how would you know of it, Severus?" Black sneered.

"I know because I was in the room."

"Some hot-shot wanted you to make some potions, did they?" Remus asked.

"Nothing of the sort. I was actually more of a translator," Severus' side was elbowed by Azrael as he smirked.

Remus looked suspicious. "You never said you were a registered translator of any sort before."

"I'm not but it was easier for Azrael to just project to one person, me, and have me tell everyone else."

'We figured it out, Moony. We figured out how to get rid of lycanthropy. Severus showed me all of the technical stuff and once I knew what it was I needed to get rid of, I could will it away and replace it with an animagus ability.

'If you want I could cure you.'

Remus blinked. "What do you mean 'if I want to'? Who wouldn't?"

Azrael tilted his head to the side, 'Well I guess people who don't know anything different and like being a werewolf. I know it's hard but some people might resent losing their wolf side.'

"I guess that makes sense," Sirius added and Remus nodded.

"I'll think about it."

'While you're thinking about it,' Azrael continued, 'I want to visit some packs to give them the same offer.'

There was an instant resounding "No!" from all three older men.

"They are vicious. It's too dangerous," Remus said with finality.

"I agree," Sirius backed up Remus quickly.

Everyone looked to Severus who groaned. "Merlin, why me? If I say no, you'll go gallivanting off on your own and probably get killed. If I say yes, you'll force me to come with you and I'll get killed."

'I won't let the werewolves kill you,' Azrael insisted.

"No, it's not them that I think is going to come through my floo in the dead of night, creep up to my room and strangle me in my sleep with a maniacal grin on their dog-like face." Sirius grinned unabashed at the insinuation.


	11. Chapter 10: The Offer

Chapter 10: The Offer

August 10th, 1998

It was unfathomably cold in the early hours of that Monday morning. The forest was reminiscent of something deep in Azrael's mind it was nagging him like everyone calling him Naos had been nagging him. He sighed and pushed forward with Severus in his customary black robes at his right flank.

"I think we're close," mutter Severus quietly. There wasn't need for too much noise but at the same time they weren't stupid enough to think that they could sneak up on a werewolf pack.

'I know we are. I can sense them. Do you think I should alert them of our presence now?' Azrael received only a nod and reached out his mental thought tendrils to the nearest werewolf. 'There are two wizards in the forest very close. We wish to offer your alpha a gift. We carry no weapons but one of us has a wand. We are located to the south west of your current location dressed in black.'

There immediately were several yells heard and a sound akin to muted thunder coming towards them. 'Severus, drop your outer robes.'

"Are you serious?" the man asked incredulously. "It's freezing out here."

'Yes and they need to see that you carry no weapon, only a wand,' Azrael explained. 'Please don't look at me funny if I have to start talking.'

"Don't worry; I'll just harass you later about sounding like a Russian mobster."

'A what?'

Severus rolled his eyes. "Muggle thing, don't worry about it."

The shapes of people became visible over the next hill and Severus and Azrael shed the cloaks and bared their arms. A large hulking figure made their way out of the mass of bodies and examined the two wizards closely. He stepped forward and Azrael lifted his palm and made a fire ball appear hovering over his hand.

"Fenrir Greyback," Severus struggled not to sneer out the name in disgust.

"Severus Snape. Always a pleasure," the man mocked. "Was it you and your mind games then that sent everyone running? Perhaps we should eat you both now and get this debacle over with now."

'No.'

Fenrir's eyes widened a bit. "Oh, so it's you sending Legilimency messages. And here I thought you were a sacrifice for the peace between werewolves and wizards."

'That would be a tad unwise.' Azrael projected. "If you or anyvan else who is a verevolf vants to ever be normal vunce again you vould be responsible and accountable for killing dee only person able to cure it. Lycanthropy zat is."

Fenrir burst out laughing. "This is hilarious, Snape. Where did you kidnap this one from?"

"I'm here because nobody wanted him to go and track you all alone. He's got a reckless streak going lately."

"And what can you expect from a specimen that is but a cub."

Severus shook his head, "This is Naos Black better known as Azrael. He's already sat all of his OWLs and half of his NEWTs and passed them all with Os."

"Why should something so trivial and scholastic concern me, the Big Bad Wolf?"

"He just turned 15. Not even in fifth year yet." Fenrir looked momentarily impressed.

"So it took a brainchild to determine how to cure us?" the werewolf was sarcastic.

"He's not human."

Fenrir's laughter died down. "Does being a werewolf make him not human?"

"I am not a verevolf," Azrael's voice was heavily accented. "Novan knows vat I am." The boy stepped forward and circled Fenrir. 'You however, I do know. Fenrir means The Great Wolf; son of Loki – the god of trickery and mischief. You weren't born a great wolf but we all get there eventually. I'm getting there and I have learned that I don't need incantations or spells. I will things to happen and so mote they are. I researched the werewolf's genetics and already healed a man with lycanthropy. I am here to offer you all a chance to rid yourself of your lycanthropy, no strings attached. I'm not going to make you pay for what is already yours, even if it's not one hundred percent of the time.

'Now, are you going to attempt to ambush me with trickery and mischief or will you lay you're father's deeds to rest with his bones?'

"Bones, Mr Black. Can you guarantee that your method is safe?"

'Yes. I offered the same to my godfather and I would never touch him with ill-intent. He is still deciding whether or not he wants to rid himself of something he is so used to which is understandable. I won't change someone unless they are completely sure. Of course, another bite would put them right back, but I wouldn't want them to endure the unnecessary pain of a second turning.' Azrael came to stand back beside Severus, whom he had been projecting to as well.

Fenrir gave a toothy smile that somehow still held his maniacal nature whilst being sincere. "How thoughtful and insightful. Should every member of my pack wish to convert to their human status, would you be able to change them all today – here and now?"

'No. I'm not a wizard but I do suffer from magical exhaustion. I estimate being able to cure fifteen adults within a twenty-four hour time period at the most. The process might be lengthy in some cases and such procedures cannot be rushed. People are not disposable so time must be taken.

'If everyone wanted such a procedure, I would ask for a list of names, approximate length of time since being infected with lycanthropy, current condition of health and any relations within the pack. Couples or families undergoing the same procedure would go on the same day so as not to be separated.'

The alpha nodded and motioned another portly man in a tattered pair of shorts to come forward and they whispered for a moment. Both nodded and Fenrir looked back at Severus and Azrael. "I need to talk this over with my pack. Is there any way I can contact you?"

Severus nodded and handed the werewolf a necklace with a nickel token on the end of it. "Speak one of our names into it and we will know where to come. Please try to do so a week before the next moon at the latest. Azrael needs to finish completing his NEWT courses." Azrael simply nodded in compliance with the statement and they turned to leave, picking up their dark travelling cloaks from the ground and shaking them off before fastening them.

"Wait," Fenrir called and motioned Azrael over. The small youth complied and went before the alpha again. "Are you intended?"

'Not in the way you're thinking, but I'm not available.'

Fenrir eyed Severus with disdain. "Does the dungeon-dweller court you then?"

Azrael smiled and shook his head, 'No. He is my chosen companion during my current stage of life. He is my confidant and an essential addition to my life. Without him I wouldn't be here offering such a medical advancement.'

"If, then, you find yourself needing a new companion, you know where to look, savvy?" a feral grin worked its way onto Greyback's face.

'Savvy.'

Azrael returned to Severus' side and noted his stiff posture and ignored it. The two travellers continued up the hill they had previously hiked down and disapparated to the door of Spinner's end.

Once in the house, Severus rounded on Azrael. "What was all that about with Fenrir?"

Azrael arched a brow at the man's forwardness and outright dislike for the werewolf. 'Why? What's it to you?'

"Are we keeping secrets now?"

'Are we using questions as deflectors now?'

Severus uncharacteristically let out an annoyed shout and through his fist against the wall, making Azrael step back away and reassess the situation. The wall had a visible crack where Severus had impaled his fist. "I don't trust that mongrel and you know it! You're deliberately antagonizing me over this! What did he say?" the raging man demanded as he came at the fifteen-year-old until he had Azrael backed against the other wall. "What did he say to you?"

The boy was trapped against the wall and couldn't stop the taller man from making his threatening approach. Something in him told him he couldn't hurt him – ever. Another part of his mind took over, remembering a hulking figure moving in the same way towards him menacingly. His automatic reaction was to huddle in on himself and cry.

The angry professor stopped in his tracks at his Ángel crying on the floor and mentally berated himself. Now he had really screwed things up. The boy had thought that he was going to hurt him in his blinding frenzy of emotions. Severus kneeled cautiously before the most important person in his life and tentatively called out the boy's name. "Ángel. Ángel, look at me. I won't hurt you. I'm sorry."

The child looked up at him with tear-stained green eyes. He had only seen such eyes once before in a young Lily Evans. He had been in love with her for years and suffered with just being her friend until she married a pompous Quidditch hot-shot and moved to Godric's Hollow. They had been killed by rogue wizards, only leaving their son alive, whom later disappeared into thin air, so it seemed.

His attention was solely on those eyes and he was caught off-guard by the small hand that smacking him across the face. 'How dare you? What reason did you have to come at a defenceless child?'

Severus was immediately on the defensive, "You're not helpless and defenceless."

'That's where you're wrong,' Azrael informed. 'Since you got that mark I cannot hurt you.'

"But you just hit me!" Snape spoke incredulously.

'And it hurt me to do it! Physically and mentally. I always protect you like with Sirius last month. Or the werewolves – I would've made them all drop dead before letting them hurt you.'

"And I, you. That's what friends do. I had your back that entire time but I can't cover you if I don't know what's going on."

Azrael let out a weak laugh. 'He offered me his... uh... companionship should you ever start to bore me. I politely declined.'

Black eyes narrowed suspiciously at the mental stumble and the now pink-tinged cheeks. "What else did he say?"

A nervous laugh permeated Azrael's red lips as he mentally continued, 'Well, he pretty much asked if we were together.' Severus didn't understand why Azrael had been reluctant to say it. Of course they were together as friends. He had thought that to be obvious. 'He asked if we were mating,' Azrael rephrased.

Shock was apparent on Severus' face. Azrael decided then that if this was the result of seeing the untamed werewolf, he would have to schedule weekly visits.

* * *

August 26th, 1998

"I can't believe this."

"Padfoot-"

"No, I'm serious, Moony, the bat is around my son for nine month of the year, then takes him for another summer month," Sirius ranted. His hands were being waved in front of him with expression and also with too much gusto as he was spilling most of his scotch on the rocks onto the Persian rug.

Remus ditched his futile attempt at reading the Daily Prophet and stared at his long-time comrade and fellow Marauder. "You know the time they spend together is consensual. It's not that Severus is stealing him away as you make it out to be. They are helping each other. You know that Severus is settling down a bit now and he isn't nearly as taciturn and volatile as before. Azrael brings out the best in him."

"And Az? What about what's best for him?"

Remus moaned in frustration at Sirius. "Padfoot, you know as plain as day that Severus coming over here to discuss educational options for Azrael is not him stealing your son away."

With another wave of his hand that encircled his tumbler, he sat up. "Fine. I'll go get Az. You just wait and see. First it'll be this researching, then it'll be the mentoring then I'll find out that tattoo means they're soul mates and they'll have little hook-nosed babies that scowl at everyone."

"You wouldn't be upset if he's gay, would you?"

"Of course not. My brother was before he died and he was perfectly normal." Sirius stood and took a swig of his drink but pulled it back and examined the glass. "Moony, I could've sworn that you poured me half a glass of that scotch."

Remus barked a laugh. "Check the carpet, Padfoot."

The wet spot under Sirius' boot was evidence enough as Sirius sighed and went upstairs to fetch his son.


	12. Chapter 11: The Carving

Chapter 11: The Carving

September 2nd, 1998

Dolores Umbridge was a stout and stubby toad of a woman, dressed in frilly and fuzzy overbearing robes and cardigans. The woman, better known as Undersecretary to Minister Cornelius Fudge, was as hot tempered as she was controlling. She marched determinedly to Headmaster Dumbledore's office as fast as her pudgy feet in her pink stilettos would take her.

Upon arrival at the top of the Headmaster's spiral staircase, Albus called, "Enter Dolores."

"Headmaster, I have some shocking news. I reviewed some OWL student records and one student took all of the OWL classes and half of the available NEWT classes and he's _still_ here! I saw this boy earlier and he was walking around the Black Lake with-"

"Severus? Of course they were." He said in a grandfatherly tone, keeping his smile in place. "Tea? Lemon drop, perhaps?"

The toad-woman ignored the man's inquiries and sputtered, "But surely you believe such appalling incidents occurred, Headmaster."

Albus nodded, "Of course. I've known of such events for a while now. They are good friends. I believe they were even collaborating this past summer on potions and healing advancements and made a few breakthroughs. Quite impressive, I believe."

"You knowingly let such a thing happen? Why is the boy still even here? He doesn't have any classes and doesn't do anything extracurricular besides Quidditch," Umbridge complained.

"He's teaching."

Dolores' face was turning a fiery red colour. "Are you saying you have an unlicensed, unqualified child running around here teaching Merlin-knows-what to students? What would the Board of Governors say? What would the ministry and by extension, the Minister himself have to say about such an outrage?"

"You misunderstand me dear Dolores," Albus explained calmly, still bearing a smile and twinkling eyes. "I was referring to him and Severus. He is teaching his professor and mentor without even knowing it. Severus has much to learn still as do you and I. Azrael can teach him some of it."

"Azrael? There is another boy other than Naos Black that has been hanging around the Potion's Master?"

"No, Azrael is a name that the seventh year Slytherins gave him last year. He is friendly enough with them."

Dolores stepped closer to the ancient man's desk. "Answer me this then: how does a child whom doesn't speak, communicate or seem to feel understand a man like Severus Snape anyways, let alone teach the mood bastard."

Dumbledore chuckled, "I would ask that you refrain from name-calling behind other professors' backs. As for Azrael understanding and teaching Severus, he just does and is. They get along effortlessly and that's all there is to it. It's not against any rules, regulations or laws for students to be friends with their teachers on a personal level or vice versa, otherwise Severus wouldn't have been strolling around the lake earlier. If that's all..."

The stubby witch put her nose in the air and gave a slight nod before turning on her heels and marching back to the way she had entered. "Oh, and Dolores, I think you'll find that you are also missing two records in Azrael's file."

"And which papers would those be?"

"An approved Mentorship application and a Change of Lodging request – also approved. He lives with his mentor now."

Dolores Umbridge seethed. The old man was baiting her. "I am guessing that he is mentoring with his Head of House, then?"

"Of course. Any other complaints?"

Umbridge gave a forced semblance of a smile and her heels clacked away with a more audible 'click' that made the Headmaster smile once his office door was shut and the stairs could be heard retracing their movements of earlier.

"Albus Dumbledore, you've still got it," he said to himself as he popped a lemon drop into his mouth.

* * *

November 24th, 1998

Azrael was spending the day before his final five NEWT exams on Severus – literally. The two had had an argument about who got the coveted place at the end of the couch with Severus saying he was big and Azrael was little so the bigger of the two got the best spot on the couch to read. In response to that, Azrael had seemingly given up. Unfortunately, once Severus sat down, the 'little' one sat on him claiming that he was 'little' so it shouldn't bother such a 'big' person for him to sit on Severus. Severus frowned at being outsmarted and squished in the same moment but let the boy be.

The younger wizard had ended up leaning against Severus' shoulder and read the same book as Snape until Azrael ended up asleep against him. The man carefully removed Azrael's arms from around him and carried the teen to his own bed. The boy looked every part of what Severus was almost ninety percent sure the boy was – some sort of angel or angelic breed.

He was one of a kind as only about two per hundred and fifty years were born and the last one died at least a hundred years ago. They all were said to have had markings that manifested on their skin, they were often mistaken for wizarding anomalies and marked their chosen humans with their angelic name and a symbol. Azrael had blessed him the night of the Summer Solstice and it mean that Severus was a person of trust and love – platonic or otherwise – to him.

Severus resolved to tell the boy once his exams were over.

* * *

November 27th, 1998

"So, how was the final exam?" Severus called from the living room as he sensed his beloved Ángel entering his rooms.

'Sodding waste of my time, just like all of the other years' material that I've covered. The only reason I even took Divination was to have something to do and it was _so_ boring. At least I finished early. I wasn't supposed to be done until a half-hour from now,' Azrael replied. He approached the chair Severus was sitting in and stopped for a moment. 'Sev? Can I sit with you?'

"Why?"

'Why not?' Azrael countered.

Severus made a big production out of sighing and scooting over a big in his large chair and opening his arms in invitation. The teen was quickly sitting on the chair and closed his eyes, relaxing against Severus' chest.

"Ángel, I have a surprise for you."

'What's that?' he mumbled into Snape's button-down.

"I figured out what you are."

The relaxed wizard sat up a bit, leaning into the comfort of Severus' chest. 'Are you serious? When did you figure it out?'

Severus chuckled, "Of course I'm serious. I've been piecing things together for a month or so now and calling in discreet favours trying to find any information on what I guessed you were but the problem arose when it was plain that there isn't much literature on such beings. You're currently one of a kind."

The potion's master looked down at the green eyes below him and the cherry lips parted slightly in question. "From what I've managed to gather, you're a morarke. Essentially, you're a fallen archangel. Mor- comes from many languages meaning death and a few others meaning dark. Arke is derived from the Swedish 'ärke ängel' meaning archangel."

'So what about the manifested name on my arm?'

"That's part of the distinguishing features of your kind. Tattoo-like manifestations start a year after birth and once the morarke has gained more magical experience, usually in their teen years, they have their first burning and receive their manifested wings on their back and a Latin scroll on their torso and more designs appear. As they mature after their first burning, the morarke get their angel name, named after the archangels of heaven. Only about twelve to fifteen records can be found of them and so far Azrael and Michael are the only two that have only been documented once."

'Do they have stories? The archangels of heaven?'

"Actually," Severus pondered, "Michael, Gabriel and Azrael have titles as the Defeater of Satan, Messenger of God, and Angel of Death respectively." After seeing his Ángel cringe at the title, Severus added, "That is not to say that you will bring about someone's death. Don't worry yourself about it. In the mean time, come and help me with some of these potions I have to brew."

'Alright. But this really does explain a lot. Last week when I went into the forest with Hagrid, three unicorns flocked around me and bowed before nuzzling me. Maybe they knew what I was.'

Azrael stood from the chair and offered his hand to Severus. He had plainly established long before that he had been getting himself out of chairs for many years on his own and didn't need assistance. Azrael had rebutted saying it wasn't about getting out of the chair, it was about trusting the other person to help one to their feet. Severus had been hesitant at first but now always accepted the hand when offered as a sign of trust betwixt the two wizards.

"Thank you," Severus said automatically.

"Any time," replied a quiet, accented voice.

* * *

December 1st, 1998

Viktor Krum sat at his writing desk at Durmstrang when he felt his mark tickle in the slightest. The mark always seemed to do so around this time of the night as it was currently nearing eleven o'clock in the evening and had been tickling for the past hour or so.

Since the summer solstice, the mark had done it more during the summer and only ever now and again during the day but always, like clockwork, the tickling sensation appeared over his heart from ten at night until at least eleven. Sometimes, it would continue through the night and into the early morning and be gone by the time Viktor awoke from the most relaxing sleep he had had since his brother had disappeared.

Viktor had been convinced that his brother was the cause of the heart and wings. His mother and father had cried when they saw the mark over Viktor's heart and they were both sure that it was their Kozmas trying to send them a sign. They had issued country-wide searches in Bulgaria and Macedonia and placed handsome rewards for the return of their lost son but to no avail. Andor had become discouraged by the little to no response from authorities and individuals in their communities.

They had lost almost all faith of his survival of the raid at all when the manifestation had appeared on Viktor's chest. The small Kozmas-like anomaly brought new-found hope and faith to the Krum family and many of the family's friends and relatives whom had all fallen in love with the boy's quiet mannerisms and actions.

The tingling, however, was one thing that Viktor kept to himself. It seemed intimate, like his talks with his brother that they had had boy to boy as young wizards. Sharing the feeling with others seemed like a breach of their private time that they had once had together.

As Viktor stared at the dark wood of his writing desk, he glimpsed the carving done four years before by his brother. 'Vik + Koz until the end' in the Cyrillic lettering of their native tongue lay forever engraved in the otherwise smooth mahogany wood. Two drops of water lay on the wooden surface, not far from the carving. The muscle-laden teen stood from his chair, swiped his hand across his eyes and walked to the window with his shoulders hunched in their usual way.

That night, looking out at the stars Viktor knew that somewhere, every night at ten o'clock his brother was happy. Even if he wasn't in Kozmas' new life, he was assured that his brother was understood and taken care of, which was all that he could ask for. He hoped that one day, Fate would allow for them to meet again, but until then Kozmas was somewhere – and Viktor hoped it was beautiful.


	13. Chapter 12: The Struggle

Chapter 12: The Struggle

December 17th, 1998

'Headmaster, are you free right now?' projected Azrael hesitantly through the wooden door to the Headmaster's office.

"Yes, m'boy. Take a seat please, come in." The young man's head nodded silently, his inky hair had now grown to just below his shoulders and still going. Once the boy was seated, Dumbledore continued. "How are your days lately? Is there much time left anymore with Severus as your mentor?"

'Tons of time. Mostly, I've been making bases for his older classes to start on and some potions and salves for the infirmary. Not much room to complain. Plus I go see the unicorns all the time. Hagrid asks me to go out there so he can keep track of how many are in the herd.'

"Yes, Hagrid told me of your special way with the young foals especially. But I have a feeling you are here for a reason dear boy."

The twinkling eyes waited for Azrael to answer. 'I'd like to transfer for the rest of the year to another school. I've done everything that Hogwarts has to offer and though I will still stay for the required years, I want to get any and every piece of knowledge available and utilize my resources. I believe that if any other school offers a course that Hogwarts does not, that it would be foolish to waste away my school years puttering about the castle when I could be studying. Am I making sense at all, Headmaster?'

Albus sat back in his seat. He had had one exchange student before from Beauxbatons Academy some fifty or sixty years ago but none of his students from Hogwarts had ever asked for a temporary transfer. His blue eyes settled on the figure of the slim boy before him. The child was smart and who was the Headmaster to deny such a request for education. "I shall contact Madame Maxime at Beauxbatons in France. Do you speak French?"

Azrael was thoughtful. 'I'm not sure. If someone were to speak it I might recognize it. I don't know. It might be like my English. I know very much English but when my memories start back in August it took me a few days to adjust with Sirius and Remus. It's as if I was taught it but it's not the language that I spoke natively.'

"Speaking of which," the Headmaster mused, "have you figured out anything yet? Any closer to who you were?"

'A little here and there but not much. I remember my brother but my description could fit a thousand boys in England alone.'

"I see. Would you like me to contact Madame Maxime now or would you prefer I deal with the details without you present?"

'Now would be best.'

Albus nodded his consent and walked to the fireplace. He took a handful of unusual yellow powder and threw it into the floo. "For international floo service," Dumbledore provided the answer to the unspoken question.

"Madame Maxime, Beauxbatons Academy, France."

* * *

December 31st, 1998

'Sev?' Azrael called from the other room. 'Sev!' he tried a little louder in Severus' mind.

"What Ángel?" Severus entered his bedroom at Spinner's End with two glasses of champagne and took a seat on the loveseat placed at the end of his new four poster king sized bed. He took a quick sip of one of the glasses and placed them both on a small coffee table.

'Are Padfoot or Moony coming tonight?' he asked from Severus' en suite bath.

"No, both are going to the Weasley's house for New Year's. Molly invited them over as a tradition, remember? They asked if you wanted to go with them," Severus reminded him lightly.

'Yes, I remember,' Azrael said exiting the bathroom and turning out the light, 'and I also remember Sirius making a snide comment about "leaving Snape to his moping" and I said forget it.' The young man twenty years Severus' junior sat down beside him and huddled into his side.

"I still think it's foolish to choose me over your... father of sorts. You see me every day and him for a week every four to five months. I would think you would visit him when provided the chance, not hang around with your dour potions professor. I really don't understand why you bother with me."

Azrael was shocked and sat up immediately. 'What are you trying to say?'

Severus' eyes went wide with the implication of what he said, "No, no, no... I'm not trying to push you away. If it's in your mind, banish the thought. I just don't understand why a young man like you would want to be around a man more than twice his age in close contact. Our relationship is... unique. There isn't much of a label one could put on it."

'Maybe it doesn't need one,' supplied Azrael as he settled in beside Severus, whom was wearing his occasional cotton t-shirt and pyjama pants, watching the fire and the clock with the wireless on at a low volume. Azrael buried his face close to his beloved friend and breathed in the scent of cleaned cotton and sandalwoods and vanilla with herbs that was Severus Snape. He would miss this... probably long before he would actually leave for France.

Azrael had neglected to mention his plan to go to Beauxbatons at the start of the new school session to Severus because he feared the man would push him away. As the day came closer he realized the longer he put it off for his own selfish reasons, the worse Severus would react. With only four days left, Azrael resolved to tell him tonight on New Years.

The room was lighted by just the fire and the small tea lights that Azrael had placed around the room to give it a healthy glow but not too much light. As the clock ticked forward and the time came up to 11:23 PM, Azrael decided it was now or never. 'Sev?'

"Yes my Ángel?"

'Would you support all of my choices?' he hedged.

Severus set down his glass and turned his full attention to the younger wizard. "For the most part; it depends on what it is. If it's something that is going to bring you down, then no, I won't encourage it. But if it helps you or is positive in some way, I will support it."

'What if I want to travel?'

"Learning and observing others in their own cultures would be good for you. I suppose we could look at possible travel locations for Easter if you'd like," he answered.

Azrael sighed, 'That's not what I mean, Sev.'

"What do you mean, Ángel?"

'I mean that I'm going to France.'

Severus merely looked interested, "What are you going to France for?"

'The rest of the school year.'

Azrael felt his stomach drop and his mouth go dry when Severus' face changed. The man stood up and started pacing, and stopped a few paces from his place on the couch. "Who and when was this decided?"

'It was decided two weeks ago. I'm leaving in a week to Beauxbatons.' The boy couldn't meet Severus' stare and watched the floor.

"I'll ask you once more – who decided this?" his tone pierced a small hole in his chest, stabbing at his heart.

'I-I did Sev,' was the mentally stuttered reply.

Severus grabbed his wine glass and threw its contents into the fire, making it flare a bit before proceeding to throw the delicate wine glass against the bedroom wall, "Damn it all! Why the hell didn't you tell me? You say we're friends, we spend time together, we fucking cuddle and you couldn't find a moment two weeks ago to tell me? Fuck!" He started pulling at his hair in frustration.

'Sev...'

"No! Don't 'Sev' me! This is your doing. You deliberately chose to not tell me until a week before you're leaving. Tell me, does your father know?"

'Yes, he signed off on it too the last time I saw him at a Slytherin game. I needed his permission.'

"So I'm the last one to know at the last minute?"

'Not last minute...'

"This is _so_ last minute! How could it not be?" Severus shouted.

'Sev, this is important!'

"Then why are you waiting until now? Why?"

'I thought you might not listen and hear me out! I was afraid, okay?'

"So fear means you lying to me? What else are you afraid of? Tell me, because I need to know what else you're lying to me about!"

'It's not even about lying. I-'

"Just get out."

'What?' The boy's mind hit a brick wall and he was still spinning from the impact when Severus replied.

"I said 'get out'. You want to leave, so go."

'But Sev...'

"Now!" he roared.

Azrael went to the fire and grabbed a handful of floo powder. He eyed the shattered glass for a moment before throwing the powder down and entering the fireplace. The fireplace at Grimmauld Place spit him out in an unforgiving manner and he stumbled out of the room, collapsing in a heap on the hallway floor. The frayed red and burgundy paisley rug was tattered and forgotten beneath him as Naos Black curled into himself and cried, huddled up on the floor.

* * *

January 1st, 1999

At around 2:30 AM, Sirius stumbled in followed by Remus. They were giddy and laughing about Arthur Weasley's drunken impersonation of Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt. "Come _here_ young one! It _is_ time you _learned_ how to properly stun something." Sirius imitated with stress on certain words.

Remus laughed and sighed shaking his head. "You know, I don't ever think I've seen Arthur so... Az!"

"So Az? Whatever are you talking about..." Sirius trailed off as he turned around from hanging his cloak up and glanced into the hallway where his son lay in a heap under the lamp-light. Upon further examination, the boy was a complete mess. His eyes, though closed, were visibly puffy and red-tinged with dried tear tracks staining his angelic cheeks. His clothing was rumpled and he had some soot on him, probably from the floo.

Moony lifted him into his lap and stroked the child's arms, long fingers running over the criss-crossing scars that the boy usually kept hidden even in private. "Azrael," Remus cooed into the youth's ear. Green eyes opened slowly and they seemed to lack their usual sparkle.

'Sorry if I woke you or something when I came in,' he apologized.

Sirius shook his head, "No, son, we just got in." He pushed the black hair off of the pale face before him. "What happened? I thought you were spending the night with Severus?"

'I _was_... I just- I should have told him before.' The young teenager lay in Moony's lap looking even more vulnerable than he had ever looked before as he burst into tears. Pity washed over Sirius and his voice laden with wise words was caught in his throat.

"I'm sorry," Remus whispered in the boy's ear.

"Me too," a heavily accented voice replied from the werewolf's lap.

* * *

January 3rd, 1999

Severus walked into his quarters at Hogwarts and felt a strange air to it. Some books were missing from the table, two pairs of shoes at the door and a few cloaks and a hat from the coat stand were gone. Azrael's things... no, Ángel's things. His Ángel was leaving at an unknown date and the thought made a stabbing feeling occur on the left side of his chest. He moved forward a bit more into the apartment and froze at the sound of soft sniffles from Azrael's bedroom.

He proceeded into the bedroom where the noise was present and halted at the door frame, peering in. It was just Azrael in there, caressing the glass of a picture frame that Severus didn't recognize. While he was leaning forward to get a glance of the picture in the frame, he ran into the door which made a noticeable creak. 'Oh!' Azrael gasped swirling around to see his mentor. 'Sorry, I tried to be here and gone without bothering you. I'm so sorry Sev – I mean, sorry Professor.'

"You don't have to leave," Severus's voice cracked embarrassingly at the end and he looked away. He felt like he was being choked by his heart strings.

'You said you wanted me gone.'

"I lied. You lied and then I lied. I didn't realize I lied until after you had left."

'Two wrongs don't make a right.'

"No, but two lefts do."

Azrael put down the picture frame and gave a weak smile. 'Can I hug you?'

"Any time," Severus opened his arms in invitation and Azrael accepted. "I'm sorry."


	14. Chapter 13: The Flames

Chapter 13: The Flames

January 4th, 1999

The Hogwarts Potions Master rolled over in his bed early in the morning and felt warmth radiating from right side. His left arm came across him as he turned on his side and slung his arm around the smaller figure in his bed. The latter rolled his way into Severus' arm and sighed, 'This is totally the best cuddling ever. I feel so calm,' he explained.

"What is it with you and cuddling? It must be a newly discovered trait of the Black family – dark arts, Slytherin troublemakers, insatiable cuddlers. Do you do this with anyone else or am I the only one feeding the flames of your cuddling fetish?"

'Just you. It's not that I like it; I love the feeling of being warm and calm when I'm close to you. It builds within and permeates my soul with warmth. It's almost indescribable beyond that. It makes me extremely sad though.'

Severus quirked a brow, "Why ever would you be saddened by such an 'indescribable feeling'? Shouldn't you be experiencing warmth permeating your soul?"

'I'm not joking, Sev. I'm sad because I'm leaving today and I'm going to miss my best friend. I'm going to miss the warmth and thought I am loath to admit it, I will miss even your snarky attitude and everything down to the practiced billow of your robes when your attempting to be dramatic.' Azrael smirked and stuck his tongue out at his mentor and best friend.

Severus forgot about being his usual thirty-something years and the fact that he had a class of seventh years to teach in two hours and tickled the teen beside him that dared to stick his tongue out at him. "Such a cheeky brat; Not so cheeky now!" he yelled as he continued his laughter and tickling assault.

'Okay! Okay! I give! You win!' Azrael managed to project through his bouts of ringing laughter.

Both stood and smoothed out their robes, crinkled and creased from sleeping fully dressed. 'I have to leave in a half-hour. Will you see me off?' Azrael looked hopeful and desperately wished for Severus to go with him to the Headmaster's office for his floo to Beauxbatons.

"Yes, I'll see you off. I have a gift for you though and you have to promise to use it as much as possible for me to give it to you," Severus concluded mysteriously.

'Okay. I'll use it as much as possible, provided it doesn't embarrass me on a regular basis.'

Severus frowned momentarily before shaking his head and retreating to a shelf on the other side of the living room. Azrael followed with his bags floating after him and dropping carefully to the living room floor like devoted, obedient puppies. Severus approached Azrael with a black silk bag the size of his fist in hand. "This is for you and I really do hope that you keep your promise." He opened the bag for Azrael to look into and was surprised to see familiar yellow floo powder.

The youth grinned at his mentor. "Thank you," he drawled in a sort of Russian accent. His eyes lit up and Severus thought then of Lily Evans-Potter again. Azrael's eyes were one and the same with hers and the thought made him smile effortlessly.

'What are you thinking of?'

Of course he boy would catch his smile and know something was different. "An old friend I used to know that had the same eyes as you. I'll find a picture and show you some time."

Azrael nodded and hugged the currently nostalgic Potions Master. They quietly made their way up to Headmaster Dumbledore's office, talking of the different things they had done over the past year and a half. When they arrived, Sirius was already there.

'Padfoot,' the boy projected before flinging himself into his father's arms. 'Thank you for this. I wish you would've had more kids. You would have been a great dad to all of them.'

"Thank you," Sirius whispered.

The father and son let go and sat for a cup of tea before Azrael's departure. The tea was like any other time and conversation was abundant. Azrael was happy to see everyone, namely Sirius and Severus, getting along without the gritting of either man's teeth.

'Headmaster, may I speak to the Sorting Hat?' Azrael asked after the thought entered his head.

"Whatever for m'boy?"

'It asked me a question when it first sorted me and I finally have the answer and it asked me to return some day with the answer,' he replied cryptically. Albus nodded and fetched the hat from the high shelf behind his desk.

"Here you are.

'Thank you.' Azrael placed the hat on his head.

'Hello again Mr Black,' the Hat said into his mind.

'Greetings to you as well. I have finally found out what I am.'

'Please do enlighten me if you would,' replied the intrigued Hat.

'I am a Morarke. Essentially I am a fallen archangel which is why I have magic that is different from wizards. Severus researched it and told me that our manifestations are the key to our identification and that the name of an archangel appearing on us is the clear indication of what are. Mine is Azrael. There is little information on them though because only around twelve have been documented and they appear every century and a half or so usually.'

'You are the only one of your kind?'

'It appears so. I must go now. My thirst for knowledge is leading me to Beauxbatons in France to learn arts not taught at Hogwarts.'

'Go then and be happy.'

'Thank you,' Azrael finished and pulled the hat off of his head and handed it back to Dumbledore.

Finally the time had come and everyone stood up to wish the enigma of a child goodbye. The young man before them took a fist full of yellow powder from the Headmaster's proffered bag and threw it into the fire place before him with his luggage at his side. "Beauxbatons Academy, France," the accented voice spoke evenly and the child disappeared into the green flames.

"Well," Sirius said, "It looks like the poor students will be having more detentions in the next few months." Severus simply scowled at Sirius and exited the office hastily.

Albus shook his head and returned to his seat behind his desk. "I think you're right, Sirius."

* * *

January 4th, 1999

As Azrael stepped out of the fire to see no snow falling outside the windows of Headmistress Maxime's office unlike it was when he left Hogwarts. "Bienvenue!" a female voice said behind him. Its meaning of 'welcome' was not lost and Azrael offered a small nod.

The large woman known as Madame Maxime motioned for him to take a seat and he followed her directions, sitting in one of the simple blue chairs before the desk.

"Now," she spoke in English, "I was informed that you might know a little French but your instructors will speak to you in English," her English was only slightly marred by the 'i' sounds coming out as 'ee' as expected from the French woman. "Dumbleedore also told me about your talent of sorts with your Legilimency too." She continued after a nod from Azrael.

"It says in your file that you go by the alias Azrael and you have passed OWLs and NEWTs in all subjects with O's. Very impressive. Now, you are allotted two weeks to sit in on classes and you also have access to staff meetings and the staff room so as to better get to know your teachers and find one that is willing to mentor you, since putting you in classes would be a waste of time. That teacher will mentor you for three months, ending in April, at which point you may return to Hogwarts for the remaining month or continue here if you'd like.

"Also, you will be staying independent of the by-year dorms as you will not be taking classes with the others. If you wish to change that later, you may go to your mentor or me with that matter. I have arranged to have a fellow fifth year join you today to show you around. Her name is Fleur Delacour and she is currently top of the fifth year class. If you have any questions about the school functions she will be able to answer them. Answer questions before I hand you off to Mademoiselle Delacour?"

'Non,' Azrael projected with a smile.

"Good. Your luggage will be taken to your room and Fleur is waiting for you outside my office.

Azrael gave a small wave and exited the indicated brown door to his left. He stepped out into the marble floored hallway and saw a girl dressed in a blue silk uniform with silvery blonde hair that contrasted deeply with the dark wood panelling of the hall.

"Bonj... er... Hello."

'Hi, I'm Naos Black. Call me Azrael,' he stuck out his hand in a hand shake to the blonde which she accepted and answered back.

"My name is Fleur Delacour. Madame Maxime has asked me to show you around the school. You are ready, yes?"

'Yes,' he replied.

Fleur shivered minutely. "Such a strange sensation of hearing voices in one's head," she commented with a sweep of her hair over her shoulder where is rippled down her back to her waist.

'I'm sure. Does it bother you?' Azrael had never asked someone that before. He had simply assumed it was okay to be in someone's head.

"Non. It is... different but not bad. Come, there is much to show you." Fleur and Azrael walked side-by-side down the halls passing many more girls dressed in the blue silk dresses and robes and boys with black pants and white shirts with silk ties or scarves in the same colour blue with black and blue robes. The uniform was very different than the standard plaid kilts or black pants with a white shirt, house tie, black sweater vest and black robes the students at Hogwarts wore. Then again, it was a lot warmer here for winter time.

'Is there a Great Hall?'

"Oui. It's actually just around the corner from here," the blonde informed after switching between languages. "Are you hungry? I haven't stopped for breakfast yet and you could meet my friends."

'Sure.'

He followed Fleur and stopped at the door to the Great Hall. She sensed he wasn't behind her so she grabbed his hand and towed him after her. "This way."

'This is nothing like Hogwarts. I think I miss the ceiling already.'

Fleur looked at him in question, "The ceiling?"

'Yes, the roof of the Great Halls is spelled to look like the sky outside. It's extremely beautiful on the night of the welcoming feast every year.' Azrael sighed.

The girl sat down at one of the many circular tables in the Hall. Beauxbatons didn't sort students by house. The students were organized by year. First and second years were paired as were third and fourth and fifth and sixth while seventh years were the leaders of the student body. The younger grade would learn from the older grade and the following year, they would assume the 'teacher' roles for the younger year. It was a system of teaching and being taught that encouraged inter-year friendships and peace in the school.

Azrael marvelled at the simplistic beauty of the wooden carvings along the walls of the room. His mind flashed back to the cave and its bare walls before coming back to the present. His alienation as a child had humbled him greatly and he was thankful.

"Everyone, this is Azrael from England," Fleur announced to her friends that were sitting around the table – three girls in all.

'Actually, I don't know where I'm from.'

The others gasped at the voice. "Sorry. I forgot. He doesn't talk but he mind-speaks."

Conversation flowed lightly after introductions. There was Celeste, Josephina or Jo and Sarah. Azrael liked Sarah best out of Fleur's friends but still thought the silver-haired girl herself was most friendly and welcoming towards him. He caught Fleur starring at him many time though at which point she would look away with a small smile.

After breakfast, Fleur showed him where various classes were and they stopped in on a few. The charms classroom was a lot wider and more open than the one in Hogwarts. The teacher, Professor Hellian Sage (known just as Professor Hellian) welcomed them into the class in rapid French before switching to English. Azrael nodded in response to her welcoming and motioned for class to continue. The class was a fourth year class and the students were working on levitating people.

Azrael noticed a group having trouble while the Professor was assisting another group. 'Hold your wand higher,' he projected as he lifted the fourth year boy's arm a few more inches, 'that way your classmate won't nose-dive into the floor.' The boy looked astonished but nodded telling his group members about the instruction he was given. The girl being floated became stabilized and the lesson continued.

"Fleur," Professor Hellian called before the pair left, "bring him to see Professor Helios. He should be doing combat right now with seventh years."

Fleur thanked the kindly Professor and went with her suggestion. Azrael was slightly confused though, 'Why do the students call her Professor Hellian if her last name is Sage?'

Fleur giggled, "Silly me, I forgot to tell you. Professor Hellian has a brother and sister that teach here as well. It got too confusing so the student refer to them by first names. Professor Helios teaches Defence and Professor Helena is our resident Potions Mistress. She is the third youngest person to ever achieve a Potion Mastery. The youngest..."

'Was my mentor, head of house and is my best friend. Severus Snape teaches at Hogwarts, which is where I first met him. He's taught me much of what he knows,' Azrael interrupted.

"Wow. I didn't know you knew him. Is he as strict as they say?" Fleur questioned

'Yes, he is. He's as hard as they come. He takes house points for sneezing on a bad day. But he's a great guy – just rough around the edges.'

Fleur didn't respond but pointed out several other points of interest on their way back to the main floor to where the Defence classes were held. "This is Professor Helios' combat class. Only seventh years get to take it because it takes very much discipline and even then a third of the students drop it before October because it is too hard."

'Sounds great, can we go in?'

"I'll see. Sometimes they don't allow student in because they are doing weapons training." Fleur rapped her fist on the imposing wooden door and a bulky man opened the door. "Professor Helios, this is Azrael from Hogwarts. Would you mind if we sit in on your class today?"

Professor Helios looked thoughtful, "I guess. We are reviewing advanced duelling. Come in."

Azrael entered and immediately his magic began to hum with excitement. Something about this place was familiar. The weapons that hung along the wall were what reminded him of a wall similarly set up in another room. The room he thought of was a light grey stone with lavish red carpets and an even more ornate sword arrangement lay on a stand on the fireplace mantle. The beige-gold loveseat and chairs faced the hearth and... that was it.

It was another minor flashback. He came back to the present to see students older than him attempting to annihilate each other with anything except dark spells or curses. He scoffed. This was really their attempt at "advanced duelling"?

Professor Helios, however caught the sound and ended the current duel and turning to Azrael. "Why do you scoff at another student's attempt?"

Azrael shook his head, 'I simply imagined something a bit more challenging when you said that you were reviewing advanced duelling. This isn't as advanced as I would've liked to believe.'

"Would you prefer to get up here then?"

'I'm not one to brag but I'm not like everyone else. It doesn't matter who you put me against, they won't win.'

The professor quirked his brown brow over his blue eye, "Then how about you go against me."

'I'd call that closer to fair. Okay.'

Professor Helios held out his hand to the boy of fifteen. He helped him on stage and motioned to the other side of the duelling platform.

"Ready?"

Azrael nodded. Professor Helios looked hesitant to go against a student without a wand.

The duel began after a count to three and immediately Azrael disappeared. Suddenly there was fog and light from spells being fire before a small yep came and a laugh. The fog cleared and revealed Azrael sitting cross-legged in front of a magically bound Professor Helios who was laughing. The students looked in amazement that the small boy had not only taken their teacher's wand but hand him bound perfectly in a minute of the duel starting.

"Bravo," the man said through his amused laughter. Azrael waved his hand and the bonds were removed. He handed the wand back to its owner and slid off of the stage. "Come and see me later this week if you have time, yes?" Professor Helios asked the boy. Azrael nodded before Fleur and him exited the room a few minutes later to continue their tour.

'That wasn't fair,' Azrael accidentally projected.

"Why not?" Fleur tilted her head a bit to the side. She didn't understand how the duel hadn't been fair.

'It – I'm... I'm not a wizard. It's not fair to put a wizard against me and expect the wizard to win.'

Fleur slowed a bit, "How can... you mean you're part magical creature? Like me?" She asked almost hopefully.

'No, I am only a magical creature. I prefer not to talk about it.'

The French girl acknowledged his request. "I understand. I am part Veela though so I understand how it feels to be different."

The two continued until lunch and Azrael was left to his vices and wandered through the school. He ended up out in the stables grooming one of the giant winged horses. He returned to his assigned room later that night, completely worn out from travelling and touring. He felt, once he lay in his new bed, that there was something missing. He ignored it and went to sleep.


	15. Chapter 14: The Spawn

Chapter 14: The Spawn

January 19th, 1999

Azrael had been so busy for the past two weeks. He had chosen Professor Helios as his mentor and in addition to learning from him, he would also study with Professor Hellian. Though he didn't study with them, he often visited Madame Delesseau, one of the riding instructors and animal caretakers and Professor Helena to brew some potions. They mostly worked in silence when brewing but it made Azrael feel more at home. He was finally getting into the swing of things but missed his family back home.

The only current cause for concern was a growing pain in the youth's chest. Each time he went to use magic the dull throbbing became a stabbing sensation over his heart and the boy appeared to be worn out beyond his limits. As time continued it became worse and worse even without him using his magic. Both Azrael and his mentor were at a loss for the cause and the child tried to hide it as best as he could because he didn't want to be a burden on anyone.

"Go to the nurse," Professor Helios had instructed after the boy had let out a short cry and held his chest. When Azrael brushed him off, the Professor threatened to take him down there by force. Azrael had hung his head and marched off to the right of the classroom to the infirmary.

The nurse there was a thin but stern woman by the name of Mademoiselle Arlene Fitch. Mademoiselle Fitch had Azrael lay down on one of the beds when his pain intensified. He tried to hold in the pain but ended up letting out a quiet scream, releasing the little air he had had in his lungs from taking shallow breaths.

Mademoiselle Fitch was alarmed and began her scans only to have several give off no readings. The woman was baffled and proceeded to pace. What would produce such results? The child screamed on the bed behind her and her only solution would be to get his medical history firsthand from the nurse that had inspected him before – Poppy Pomfrey.

"Infirmary, Hogwarts School, Scotland," Mademoiselle Fitch clearly enunciated in her French accent. The motherly witch on the other side was clearly Madam Pomfrey. "Poppy! Quick! I have your exchange student in my ward and half of the results come up blank. I need assistance." The boy screamed while she said this and Madam Pomfrey stood.

"You mean that Azrael is in your ward?" Arlene Fitch nodded with desperation. "Oh my, oh my... I must get Severus. Severus will know what to do. Can he be brought through the floo or is he not in a stable condition?"

"He isn't wounded visibly but he's screaming from a pain in his chest. I'll bring him through." Mademoiselle Fitch stood from the grate and rushed out to the ward to collect the boy. He was gasping now and attempting not to wince but failing miserably.

"Come on, I am flooing you to Hogwarts. I'm not well enough equipped to aid you so Madam Pomfrey will be assisting you."

'But...'

"Enough, let us go now," she stated firmly and helped the boy off of the bed and into the floo fire. "Just go through after me and I'll catch you if you stumble."

The thin witch went into the flames and Azrael followed as instructed, only to haphazardly land himself in the arms of Mademoiselle Fitch. She helped him stand and an instinct to run out of the ward took over. The young nurse barely caught his arms as he started to flee and pulled him back. She tried to calm him but ended up wrestling him onto a sectioned-off bed.

Azrael was crying and pleading to be let go and thrashed against her hold, not attempting magic for fear of the pain it would bring. The ward doors opened and two sets of footsteps ran into the ward. Azrael struggled forward even more and the nurse lost her grip.

Seconds later, Severus Snape found himself tackled from the side by a small, dark figure. They landed on the floor with a thud and Madam Pomfrey froze in horror. Professor Snape was known as the tormenter of children at Hogwarts and had never seen him on hugging terms with anyone let alone a student for almost two decades before his friend Lily was killed. She was sure this boy would be in trouble.

Mademoiselle Fitch came to the other side of the curtain and shared the same look. She had been in the dour Potions Master's presence before and his cold demeanour had chilled her to the bone. "I'm sorry..." she tried to squeak out but was surprised to see the bleak man sit up and pull the child close.

"It's okay. Calm down, we need to see what's wrong with you. Just calm down, Ángel... Shh... I`m here, calm down. You need to let me stand up," Severus said in a gentle voice to the boy who was hysterical.

"Don't go... Just don't let go," the accented voice cried quietly in the Infirmary.

"What's wrong?" Severus questioned.

Azrael shook his head, "It doesn't hurt so much... don't let go. It'll hurt again."

Severus stood and lifted the young boy into his arms and brought him to the other side of the curtain pushing past a flabbergasted Madam Pomfrey and an especially shell-shocked Mademoiselle Fitch carefully. It was as if he was carrying the most precious cargo and was afraid it would break. He laid the boy on the bed but when he went to stand up, Azrael refused to let go.

'No, no, no, no... please stay. Don't...'

"I won't let go."

After loosening his grip around Severus' neck, the man started to move away and sit in the seat beside the bed. Azrael gasped and shot off the bed into Severus' lap entwining his arms around the black-clad chest and burying his face into Severus' robes.

"Severus! Please remove Mr. Black from your person," Poppy admonished. "That is not how I would expect you to handle this situation. You two are acting like a newly bonded couple that is glued at the hips!"

Professor Snape shook his head. "Essentially, that's close to the situation. I think I know what's wrong with him already." Madam Pomfrey and Mademoiselle Fitch both fixed him with looks of displeasure. "Azrael isn't a wizard, but a morarke. In June, while he was staying with me at Spinner's End, with his father and Lupin's permission too I might add, something happened. On the Summer Solstice a tattoo, not unlike Azrael's, appeared on me and it signifies that for all intents and purposes, I am his human. It is a bond but there isn't much known about such things as Azrael's kind only appear about twice within every three or four centuries."

Madam Pomfrey found her voice finally, "So you are bonded with the child?"

"Not in the marital sense, no, but yes. It shows companionship. You know how bonded couples are told to stay close within the first few months because of the 'pull'?" Severus subconsciously rubbed his hand across Azrael's back in a soothing manner.

Poppy nodded, "Yes, but you just said this wasn't in the marital sense."

"It's not," Snape agreed. "But I have reason to believe something of the same happened to Azrael. I can't understand though why I wouldn't have had the same problem though."

"Can't hurt you," a small voice supplied in the thick foreign accent.

"So Mr. Black can talk!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed.

"It's his choice Poppy. Please respect it." Madam Pomfrey nodded with a sigh. It wouldn't have mattered anyways. Her oath as a Healer left her unable to disclose information about patients even if she wanted to. Severus met the green eyes before him with question. "Is that why? You've been absorbing all the bond tension then."

Azrael ignored the conversation, simply relishing in the divine relief that he felt with the pain easing. He snuggled closer into the familiar robes and the smell of sandalwood and vanilla with a slight mix of herbs from Severus' potions. The scent was home in a vapour. He realized then exactly how much he was loved by the lonely dungeon-dwelling professor. The man had let him cuddle into his robes in front of a long-time colleague and risked his hard-earned reputation as the cold, feared Potions Master of Hogwarts.

'Can I go to sleep?' he asked, somewhat interrupting the adult's conversation.

"Yes, I'll talk to you after you've had some rest," Severus whispered.

Azrael's breathing evened out and conversation resumed between Severus and the nurses, discussing how to get around such incidents again.

* * *

Azrael was in a house that was way too big for his size. He used the stairs to pull himself up into a standing position and wobbled a bit with every step. He walked his way across the hall to the doorway that led to the den. A boney, horse-faced woman with brunette hair past her chin sat on the sofa in a floral print dress. Her pink apron with lace made Azrael think that she must've been baking or cooking.

The woman praised and cooed at the toddler in front of her with more rolls than a dining hall. The toddler was around the same height as Azrael and seemed to be placing blocks on top of one another in no real sequence then laughing as he flung them about the room. The woman would just shake her head and collect the blocks for her child. She, however, caught sight of Azrael out of the corner of her eye and dropped the blocks she had collected.

"Vernon, get out here!"

The whale-like man Azrael had seen before in memories entered and Azrael felt fear but his body wouldn't move away. He instead took more cautious steps towards the adults until he could grasp the man's pant leg and smiled in triumph. Suddenly he was thrown to the floor and felt pain in his back. He started crying when he got hit in the head by something hard. A block lay on the floor beside his head, which the chubby toddler had thrown at him.

"Serves him right for walking before Dudley started! See Petunia, I told you that he would be no good. He is and always will be evil spawn of your sister and that floozy she married." The man then reached down and grabbed the distressed boy by the arm and dragged him to the cupboard under the stairs. He opened the door and roughly tossed the boy in before closing the door and leaving the hurt, scared Azrael in the darkness.

* * *

January 20th, 1999

Azrael gasped and opened his eyes before sitting up. He looked around at what was Severus' room in almost complete darkness. The only light came from the candle stub at his side of the bed. A shifting beside him alerted him of Severus' presence. The onyx eyes opened and he sat up, "Did you have a dream?" he asked groggily.

'Sorry that I woke you.'

"That's not the answer to my question."

'I know,' Azrael yawned. "I did have a dream. I think it might be a memory because I was the height of a toddler and the fat man was terrorizing me again.'

"What else? What do you remember from it?"

Azrael remembered the dream and was mostly interested in what the adults had said. 'The man called me "evil spawn of your sister and the floozy she married" to the woman, so I think they might be my Aunt and Uncle. His name was Vernon and hers was Petunia and the ball of rolls was Dudley I think.'

"Dudley?"

'Oh, right. I know I was the size of a toddler because there was another one smashing piles of wooden blocks. He threw one at my head and my uncle was happy.'

"Hmmm... What did you say your aunt's name was?"

'Petunia. Unless he was calling her a pet name.'

Severus looked deep in thought and shook his head before pulling away the covers and getting out of bed. "There's no way," he muttered as he quickly made for the armoire along the wall. He threw open the door of the armoire and retrieved a sleek wooden box. After riffling through the box momentarily, he pulled out a piece of paper and replaced the lid on the box and put it back in the armoire, not bothering to close the door of it before hastening back to Azrael on the bed. "Does she look like this a bit?"

Azrael was shocked. There in Severus' hand was a muggle picture, well worn with age, which contained a young Severus, a fiery haired girl beside him and a younger version of the horse-faced woman from his dream. 'It's her.'

"Fuck," was the only decipherable word of a long string of obscenities utter from Severus as he paced the floor.

'What's wrong?'

"Do you remember when you left?" Severus asked cryptically.

'It depends on what you want me to remember. What are you thinking of?'

"Do you remember when I gave you the floo powder so you could visit me?"

Azrael's face lit in recognition. "Yes I remember; what about it?"

"This is the photo I was going to show you. I was best friends with the red-headed girl since I was about eight and the other girl is her sister Petunia. If Petunia was your aunt then Lily Evans-Potter was your mother which makes you... Harry Potter."

'I'm what?'

"Harrison James Potter. That's what your parents named you. I was there for you christening. Merlin, I can't believe I didn't put it together before. The eyes especially and you didn't know who you were. You went missing a long time ago. Dumbledore thought you'd be safe in their home and when Sirius was let out of Azkaban and rehabilitated he went to get you but Vernon and Petunia said you were gone and had been gone for four or five years."

Azrael looked at the photo, 'I remember when Remus brought me home last year and Padfoot said I looked like Harry. It never clicked for me though.'

Severus smirked, "I remember when you were a baby just over a year old and you clearly calling him Paddy and Remus Moo-moo."

'Moo-moo?'

"You couldn't pronounce the 'n' in his name at the time."

'Oh Merlin.'

"What now?" The Potions Master sounded exhausted.

'Padfoot and Moony – they still think I'm... gone.'

**A/N: So I've gotten a few reviews already and a big thanks to Kittenn1011, who kept telling me to publish this… And listened to the longest synopsis of life. (L: Does this joke have a punch line or what? I've been waiting forever for it.) **

**There was also some concern 'bout Voldie… *maniacal grin*… let's just say: if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around, does it still make a sound?**


	16. Chapter 15: The Flood

Chapter 15: The Flood

January 21st, 1999

After the long morning conversation between Severus and Azrael the day before, Azrael decided to tell his Godfathers-turn-adoptive fathers about his revelation. His only problem was that he was convinced that he still had a whole other life under a different name and still wanted to know if his other family was still around, or if like "Harry", his family was gone. Severus supported his decision to not take on the name Harry Potter because he knew his Ángel still had his heart set on finding his brother he had had before and whatever family came with him.

He found himself flooing first into Grimmauld Place and Azrael followed gracefully as always. Sirius heard the floo and came into the den. "Oh, hello Sever- Pup! You're here! I missed you!" Sirius exclaimed once he saw Azrael behind Severus' shoulder. "Why are you here during the week? I thought you were busy with classes."

'It was a non-negotiable return. I was away from Sev too long and the bond tension overloaded on me since I can't hurt Sev and so he had no clue until the day before yesterday,' he explained hurriedly.

Horrified, Sirius pulled his son into a hug, "Why wasn't I notified?"

"He was literally stuck to me the first day to ease the bond stress and he was sleeping it off the second day. We came to talk to you and Remus."

"Oh," Sirius said before turning, "I'll go get him and send for tea." Sirius walked out of the room and went into the library to fetch Remus. "Azrael is here with the dungeon bat."

"On a Thursday?" Remus asked without rebuking his friend for using such a horrid nickname for Severus.

Sirius rolled his eyes, "He's been here since Tuesday." Sirius called Kreacher and got the old elf to bring in a tray of tea for four.

Once everyone was seated comfortably in the den, Azrael got to the point.

'I had a dream yesterday night. It turned out to be a memory and I told Severus about it to make heads or tails of it. I figured out one of the people I used to be.'

"That's great," Remus enthused and Sirius looked like he was on the edge of his seat.

'You already knew me and I knew you before we had met in Knockturn Alley or here in Grimmauld. The only difference was that I knew you as Paddy and Moo-moo and I was a lot smaller then.'

"Harry?"

'Yes, but I'm not Harry anymore.'

Sirius stood and embraced the child. "This is where you belong whether you're Harry or Naos, Pup."

'No Padfoot. I still have another family somewhere. I have a brother and we play Quidditch together and I jump on him in the mornings because he's a heavy sleeper. He has brown, chocolate coloured eyes and short brown hair. He doesn't smile in polite company and walks a bit duck-footed. He's smart and understands me.'

"So if you find him, you'll go and play Quidditch and jump on him in the mornings and scowl together in polite company?" Sirius asked with a twinge in his voice as he released his hug on Azrael.

The sound of Sirius' voice confused Azrael a bit. 'Yes...' he trailed off cautiously.

Shaking his head, Sirius went swiftly from the room. Remus looked sheepishly at Azrael and went after Sirius to see if his best friend was alright.

'I messed that up, didn't I?'

Severus remained silent and gestured to the floo in a mimed question. Azrael nodded and stood. "Professor Snape's Quarters, Hogwarts School," he said into the green fire and walked in closely followed by Az.

Azrael flopped himself onto the couch in Severus' private quarters and held his head in his hands. 'I can't believe I said that to my dad. Albeit, he's not my real one, but he may as well be for all that he's done for me.'

A dip in the couch cushion beside him notified him of Severus sitting. "That was only a minor mess-up. There have been bigger mistakes made and I know he will forgive you."

'How do you know? What was your biggest mistake – or at least a bigger mistake?'

"You asked me when we first talked in my office if I became observant before or after I gained my potions mastery. I became observant after I gained my mastery and it was because I had made the biggest mistake of my life. There was a dark wizard around up until a little after you were born. I had hit a low point in my life and I gave in and joined him. A few of my acquaintances at the time also served the dark wizard so it was also peer-pressure but in the end, I took his mark and the mark doesn't stick if the one being marked isn't getting it voluntarily. It was my decision and starting from the second the wizard pointed his wand to my arm, I regretted making that decision.

"It cost me my friendship with your mother, many other friends and my own soul. I did my best to repent for it but that never stopped me from going every time he called. I started spying for Professor Dumbledore not long after I started but my soul had been tainted already and my body with the ugly mark that stays to this day. That was how I became observant and it was only in the aftermath of my biggest mistake."

Azrael leaned onto his friend's shoulder. 'Can I see it?'

"See what?"

'The mark.'

Severus glanced at Azrael. "Are you serious?"

'As serious as cardiac arrest.'

"Where did that come from?"

'Sev, you're stalling,' Azrael pointed out bluntly.

Finally, Severus undid his cloak and pulled it off. He unbuttoned the cuff of his left sleeve and pushed it up just past his elbow so Azrael could see the evidence of his teenage lapse of judgement.

Fingers gentle caressed the marred skin and Azrael frowned. 'What happened to the dark wizard?'

"One day Lord Voldemort just disappeared. He called us higher ranking Death Eaters for a meeting and he asked for me to brew him a potion meant for the next day. He instructed a certain few of us that were good at healing spells to stay behind at the headquarters the next day to help any wounded Death Eaters at the end of the raid. We were to apparate to our assigned locations at the first burning of our marks and then everyone from the raid would apparated back to headquarters at the second burn and the few to stay behind would use that as their cue to be ready.

"The next day came and I was one of the few to stay behind at headquarters. The raids usually lasted an hour at the longest and everyone was getting jumpy wondering what the hold-up was after an hour and a half. Finally, our marks started stinging, but not burning like they did when we were summoned. Only a few of the raiders managed to apparate to headquarters and told us to scatter. Aurors had flooded the raid about forty minutes in and captured and killed over half of our ranks. Everyone's mark had stung and there had been no trace of the Dark Lord anywhere. The last place he had been seen was near your mother and father's house."

Severus closed his eyes and tried to rid himself of the vision of what that house had looked like. It had been a miracle that Harry had survived. He continued his story, "The aurors had already led away the captured Death Eaters when I arrived. There were bodies everywhere in the street. Most of the houses were collapsed in on themselves including yours and others were on fire.

"People were screaming and I remember running to where your house was. The back half of your house was gone – totally demolished and the first floor had collapsed only leaving your room and your father's study in any shape to have even been called a room, though both were in rubble to some extent. I can only remember pushing through everything, only remembering to use my wand when the debris was too heavy to lift."

A tear slipped from Severus' eye and his fist clenched, pulling the skin taut where Azrael had been lightly stroking his skin with soft fingers. "I'm so sorry, Harry. My Ángel, I'm so sorry."

'Please finish. I've never known anything about my parents and was too young to remember it. Please tell me what happened. I need to know and I don't know anyone else that can tell me. Please Sev, for me.' Azrael gripped Severus' forearm desperately. He knew that he wasn't Harry anymore but he needed to know what happened in his past.

Severus looked at his Ángel's face and saw the tear tracks marking the silent hurt he had experienced thus far into the tale. "I had passed you father's body under what would've been the first floor's ceiling. We expect that he had died from the Killing Curse that a Death Eater may have cast but not many Death Eaters even entered the houses that night. I started yelling for your mother when I heard your cries. I followed them and you were on the floor beside your crib. Had you been in the crib, you wouldn't have survived.

"I never would've forgiven myself if you were gone too." The black-clad man shook his head and unlatched Azrael's hand from his arm and stood from the couch. He immediately strode from the room and Azrael stayed put. When he didn't return for a few minutes, Azrael followed Severus' steps into the master bedroom and observed his beloved human with the same wooden box that had a glossy finish from which Severus had procured the photograph of himself, Azrael's mother and Azrael's aunt.

Now open on Severus' bed, he could see that the box contained mixed contents of knick knacks, postcards, sheets of paper folded and worn and a few photos – wizard and muggle alike. Severus had a photo in his hand and a chain dangled from between the fingers of his closed left fist. Rounding the end of the bed, Azrael sat on the edge of the silky bedclothes that were buttery smooth to the touch with Severus, waiting for him to speak.

After a moment in silence Severus spoke, "When I found you, you were crying on the floor beside your crib. You were in your mother's arms and her body was smothering you a bit which is probably why you were crying. I – I loved your mother so much. Every time I look into your eyes – Lily's eyes – she's on my mind." Severus choked on his words as he struggled to get them out coherently.

'It's not your fault,' Azrael said with conviction.

Severus only looked up from the photo of himself and Lily Evans-Potter in their Hogwarts robes at his Ángel. 'It's not your fault that she died and it's not your fault that I disappeared or that I never knew my parents. No amount of "what if's" could have possibly changed their demises. It's called life for a reason, and I've learned that it's never easy.'

"I know, Ángel; Fate likes to play with its food before eating it."

"Fate," Azrael whispered. His mind flashed back.

"Fate demands this of us," the deep voice insisted. "You cannot deny Fate! You cannot run from it either. You and I both know that by now Edina. He will survive if we do this. It is all according to plan – Fate's plan. Don't trifle with things you cannot grasp, Lerawski."

'Lerawski. They took me from my aunt and uncle and bound me in chains. They burned the chains into my skin, Sev. There was a man and a woman and they thought I was still asleep when the man started yelling at the woman about Fate's plan and not denying Fate like it was a true being to be disobeyed or something.' With his senses overwhelmed, Azrael stood and put his hands to his head and swayed a bit by accident. 'I just had a major case of déjà vu or something like that,' he rushed the phrase with a tone of confusion.

Snape stood and pulled Azrael's hands away from his face and wrapped his own arms around the dizzy boy. "You should lie down. Standing isn't helping your current lack of equilibrium," he suggested.

'Maybe not,' the teen agreed, 'but you're helping.'

"You should lie down, Ángel," the Potions Master repeated when Azrael looked up at his with wide doe-like eyes.

'So should you – with me. Not without me though.'

"I think you're confusing yourself," Severus stated as he took measured steps backwards and around the bed until they were at the opposite side of the bed.

'But Sev, this is your side of the bed,' Azrael protested through his dizzy haze as Severus pushed him lightly onto the colossal sea of bedding that was Severus' king size bed.

"Then I guess we'll have to cuddle," was Severus' snide reply while pulling off Azrael's shoes and rolling him out of his heavy cloak. He transfigured the trousers, which were actually a pair of Severus' that had been shrunk, into pyjama bottoms and left the white poet's shirt, also something of Severus' that Azrael had insisted on wearing, for Azrael to sleep in.

Severus returned to the opposite side of the bed and placed the box on the ground when he heard a quiet, slurred, "Yes," from the other side of the bed. His Ángel would be the death of him.


	17. Chapter 16: The Patroni

Chapter 16: The Patroni

January 25th, 1999

"It's good to have you back but we are very behind in our training after your incident. I trust that you won't let your condition deteriorate again," Professor Helios fixed Azrael with a parody of a glare.

'Yes sir.' Azrael bowed his head, properly chastened.

Professor Helios nodded in acceptance of the apology and continued. "This week will be an introduction to physical combat. You need to be in peak physic condition. You will start a workout regiment daily and from now on you only eat junk food and desserts on Saturday and Sunday, or holidays, which only include Christmas, Easter and the like. On those days you may only have one serving of dessert no larger than your fist.

"You will train long, you will train hard and you will be pushed by me harder than I've pushed another because I know you can do it. If you refuse to rise to a challenge then your next challenge will be harder. If you refuse to do the next challenge then you will be dismissed until you complete that challenge. I cannot and will not waste time on someone who will not try. Am I understood?"

Azrael nodded with a fire of desire in his eyes. 'Yes sir.'

"Good. Now go help out Hellian with her sixth year class. She needs some help with demonstrations. Go on then. Run along. Just perform a translation charm on yourself or whatever it is you usually do," Helios smiled as he dismissed his charge and bade him goodbye.

Azrael was beginning to understand French a little better the more he heard it. He thought that this might be something else he had learned before and maybe just forgotten. In the mean time, he was a fifth year doing Charms demonstrations for all years in Professor Hellian's classroom. Today, Hellian pulled Azrael to the side before the start of her second class which was seventh years and showed him a Patronus Charm – it was unlike anything he had seen before.

"I'm not sure, mon amie, if you will be able to do this as the form needs to come from your magic and isn't just a shape willed into existence. You try."

'Expecto patronum!' he thought. Nothing happened. The seventh years started filing into the classroom. 'This isn't working!' He thought to Professor Hellian.

"Try again. The happiest thought you have."

Azrael thought hard and finally thought of a memory. 'Here it goes,' he narrated. "Expecto patronum!" he cried in his deep, accented voice, catching everyone's attention. A grey whirlwind seemed to pick up speed rapidly in the middle of the room. From the middle of the swirling winds came a bright light and out stepped six white cloaked figures which surrounded the area before a menagerie of animals started to burst forth, all magical – a runespoor, a griffin, pixies, a basilisk, and a phoenix were seen among the mix before a large dragon in the shape of a Hungarian Horntail burst forth, spraying a white magical fire of protection. All of the figures appeared to be encased in white glowing light.

Everyone alike gasped and the students muttered in French to one another about the spectacle. Azrael closed his eyes and with an outward slashing motion of his hands, everything turned into dissolving smoke and dissipated from the room. The students applauded and took their seats at their teacher's instruction. Professor Hellian proceeded to start her lesson, "Today we will learn the beginnings of how to produce Patroni or a Patronus Charm."

The lesson continued with Azrael watching. Hellian eventually sent him back downstairs to work with Helios again after thanking him for is time but what had come of his Patronus Charm was still heavy in his mind. Hellian had instructed him to show Helios the charm later and observe all the forms that appeared.

Helios was surprised to see his protégé slip into the room early while his fifth year class was in session. Azrael ducked his head in an incognito show of respect for his mentor and stuck to the shadows where he remained unseen by the students. The professor gave a wicked grin that was gone in a flash. 'Azrael,' came Helios' voice in his mind.

'Yes?'

'Care to test the students' awareness for me?'

'How shall I do it?'

'Be creative but make it escapable and only nightmare worthy. Perhaps a maze or something of the sort,' Helios explained.

'My pleasure; Give me ten minutes.'

A few minutes later the lights went out. A few girls' shrieks could be heard when their cries of lumos did nothing against a sudden, heavy fog. The chairs and desks disappeared and grass and shrubbery grew all around them to isolate some of the students. An animalistic cry was heard echoing off the walls. It sounded like a deer being hunted when the sound was met by a still deafening silence.

Sounds of students panicking and hyperventilating were Azrael's signal to cut the simulation. As suddenly as everything has appeared it was all gone and Azrael was still hidden in the shadows. "How many of you can name who did that scenario on you just now? Here is a hint, they're in this room." Helios paced the front of his classroom eyeing everyone. "No, no one? Well then, could the culprit please step forward?"

Azrael cleared his throat and casually leaned against a wall along the side of the classroom. 'A simple disillusionment and they didn't even notice the ripples,' Helios complimented Azrael as many of the students looked over to Azrael's place against a row of weapons that were under a containment charm.

"I have told you before – always be aware of everything: sounds, movements, opponents, smells, even silence," Helios chastised. "Hands up, how many of you all thought Azrael relatively harmless or maybe leaning towards a bit of a challenge?" Most of the boys and a few girls lifted their hands in the air.

"Let me assure you otherwise. He has passed all standard testing for years five and seven in England and he has mentored with the world's youngest Potions Master and was trained against dark arts by the auror who put most of Azkaban's inmates in the notorious prison itself. Azrael may be the same age as all of you, but on a battlefield, he would be a bigger danger to you than I would. Be aware of that."

Helios strode to the blackboard and began writing down some pages to be read in the text book. "We will read these together and Azrael and I shall demonstrate the spells."

Finally, the class ended and Azrael had a chance to talk to Helios. 'Hellian showed me the Patronus Charm. At first she expected it wouldn't work and it didn't but I found a way to produce one and it came with odd results. Many hooded, robed figures appeared along with a phoenix, a dragon, a griffin and so many others that were all magical to the best of my knowledge. She asked me to show you it when we had a chance.'

"Well, by all means," he said, motioning for his protégé to continue.

Azrael felt deep within himself, searching for the thread that felt calm in his soul. The thread, he had accidentally come across during a time of meditation, and it gave him comfort, like Severus, and it felt like it might be his connection to his human. When this connection was active, it was when Azrael was with Severus and he was happy and safe. This was always when Azrael was the happiest so he used the thread instead of a specific memory. The thread was multiple memories combined into the feelings of calm, serenity, happiness and love in its most pure form.

With his right hand slightly extended before him, he took in a calming breath and thought 'Expecto Patronum'. Power built from his core and rushed out his hand. Again, the robed figured appeared out of a cloud of mist followed by the animals, but this time Azrael watched the robed figures. After the dragon was out, a few more winged creatures exited and then it stopped. Azrael willed the robed figures toward him and observed them.

Each was a different height and two of the six had deeper hoods. He observed the tallest and noted that it was the same height as Severus. Its hands also were long and elegant like Severus' with some long, straight hair peeking out of the corner of his hood.

'I've got it!' Azrael projected. 'They're people that I know and I feel safe and happy around. This one is Severus.' At the recognition of the cloaked figure, the Patronus bowed its head slightly and took off its hood to reveal and shimmering similarity to Severus.

"Whoa. Mon dieu! This is incredible! I've never heard of someone producing another person as a Patronus. It's remarkable." Helios circled the Potions Master's look-alike. "Who are the others?"

'I don't know, but I'm about to find out.'

The Severus Patronus put his hood back on and stepped back into a line-up that Azrael created while the creatures groomed themselves and lay on the other side of the room. One by one the figures were examined and Azrael was thrilled to find his Godfathers-turn-accidental adoptive fathers, Sirius and Remus. They each put down their hoods as Azrael recognized them.

The last three, though, were a challenge. Who could they possibly be? He focused on the one figure left without a deep hood. The hand's palm looked rough with blisters that had toughened with time and the rounded shoulders didn't give anything away. Azrael called the figure forward and immediately Azrael recognized the duck-footed walk. He stood, stunned, that his brother was before him. Maybe he would be able to see his brother's face.

Once recognized, his brother ducked his head in a bow like the others and the dropped his hood to reveal his face. Across the figure's nose and mouth lay a veil and Azrael sighed in disappointment. At this influx in emotions, many of the animals stirred and the dragon hustled over to where Azrael was standing and nuzzled his shoulder, creating a tickling sensation in his shoulder.

"Why does this figure have a veil?" Helios asked as Azrael had stopped his mental narration.

'I believe it's because I don't remember the rest of him. I remember the Quidditch training, his habits, the way he walked and everything but I can't completely remember his face or the rest of him. That's why I didn't recognize him until he walked towards me. I don't even know his name.'

Helios observed the figure of Azrael's brother. "I might have seen him before the walk and eyes seem familiar somehow but I can't put my finger on it." The professor turned to look at the other two figures, "Maybe you're having the same problem with these two, which is why they have larger hoods."

'I hope my memory of them is the only reason,' Azrael commented with dread.

"What do you think it might be?"

'I hope the hoods are just because I can't remember who they are and not because of something worse.'

Understanding appeared on Helios' face, "You're hoping that it's not because they're dead that they're dressed differently." Azrael nodded in response to this and shook his head as if trying to rid himself of the thought but it didn't leave him.

'May I return to my rooms?' Azrael asked his mentor.

"Yes but come to my office after classes please and we'll train some more. What are you going to do in the mean time?"

'Hellian gave me an assignment of writing up a report on my Patronus and all its forms that appear.'

Nodding, Helios dismissed Azrael and the boy banished all his Patroni with a wave of his hand, all the Patroni fading into a blue glowing mist that slowly dissipated.

After the door shut behind his protégé and Azrael's footsteps could be heard no more, Helios made his way to his desk feeling older than he had in years. "I hope for his sake that they are alive and I hope they find him. He needs them," he muse to his empty office before pulling out his quill and ink well and began writing in a book.


	18. Chapter 17: The Threads

Chapter 17: The Threads

January 29th, 1999

The fire in Severus' quarters flared a yellowish-green colour that Severus had been awaiting for five days to appear in his fireplace. He laid his potions journal aside and seconds later his Ángel appeared through the flames and grinned at him, seated in his black leather chair with his arms open. The fifteen year old embraced the dour Potions Master and took his proffered seat in the chair with Severus. He talked about his diet and how he fought Helios to be allowed tea on weekends, as long as he had it without milk or sugar.

As was customary, Severus poured them both tea and they sat like that until they were done talking or, more usually, until Severus' legs started to go to sleep from the added weight of a fifteen-year old. Severus had finally gotten over the reoccurring fact that Azrael was quite wise for his years and the conversation flowed betwixt the two friends.

Azrael stood up after he was half-finished his cup of tea and spelled the other furniture to the walls to create an open space. 'I want you to watch closely.' Severus nodded, interested in what Azrael would be doing.

All of a sudden, wispy glowing figures appeared as if squeezing out of a funnel situated in the center of Azrael's palm. They glowed, like a Patronus, but there were simply too many of them to be a Patronus. 'Helios said that he's never heard of someone with a multiple Patronus before me,' the teen said as an explanation.

"That's amazing. What are the cloaks? They're not dementors or lethifolds."

Azrael laughed, 'They're people of course. Look at the tallest one closely,' Severus was informed with a smile. The man examined Patronus Severus closely at the hands and frowned slightly before raising an eyebrow.

"It's the same size as me. Is it supposed to bear resemblance?"

'Supposed to? It _is_ you, you dolt. Watch it for a moment.' He mentally commanded the figures remove their hoods and all except the last two did. 'It's you, Sirius, Remus and my brother is the one with the veil over his mouth. I'm not sure what the other two are.'

"Maybe they're old friends or maybe they're your parents."

'It's not Lily or James under those. So far, these four people are all people that I know well and care for me and love me. I never knew Lily and James or the life that they lived with me. To me, they're naught but little more than memories that other share over a cup of tea and so I can't picture them protecting me like a Patronus would.'

Severus shook his head thinking of how his life could have been different without his Ángel, which would have happened had his biological parents been around. It was a shame for a child to lose parents once let alone twice like Azrael had. He had decided long ago that if he found his Ángel's family that he would help them reconnect and he would let Azrael leave without any hassle from him but as his time with his friend grew longer, the harder it seemed it would be without the child around.

'What are you thinking about, Sev?' Azrael asked after making the Patroni disappear. 'You seem so concentrated on something. A galleon for your thoughts?'

"It's nothing. I'll tell you another time," he said with a flick of his wand, returning the furniture to its proper place.

January 30th, 1999

"Az, I need to ask too much of you right now." Moony sounded morose while he looked a bit on-edge. After his pseudo son nodded he continued, "Fenrir decided to contact me instead of you. I guess he likes to deal with more familiar creatures. Anyways, he said that your offer has been debated amongst his pack for close to five months now and many have decided to make the change.

"The only problem is that you said families would go together and the pack is very well interbred amongst them. He demands that you keep your word and do half of the transformations one day and the other half on the following day. He also said to, and I quote, 'leave his pet bat at home'. I told him there was no way you would go without Severus and he pulled the whole mate card on me. 'If he's not Azrael's mate then there's no reason for him to be here'," Moony imitated Fenrir with an uncanny likeness.

'We will deal with Fenrir when the time comes. My companionship bond with Sev is not going to be trifled with because some petulant mutt has ego inflation issues.'

January 30th, 1999

Viktor had been alarmed at first because he hadn't felt the fuzzy feeling for a few weeks and wondered what had happened. He had gone into a sort of depression, a depression that hinged on not feeling the tickling sensation on his mark every night around 10 o'clock. He was like a drug addict going through withdrawal and just begging for another hit. He thrived on feeling that sensation every night to assure him his brother was alright and in the absence of the daily frazzling of his nerve endings, he felt like he had lost hope of his brother being alive.

Then during one of his transfiguration classes, the feeling occurred with a newfound urgency, like a person scrabbling for a hold on a life preserver. 'Don't let go,' repeated the voice of his brother in his head. It was the only thing he could make out. His brother was mumbling in English, surprisingly enough.

The sudden rush of feeling though gave Viktor a shock and he fell out of his chair, twitching for a moment on the floor before he stopped. The professor ran down the aisle to the back of the classroom where Viktor lay on the floor and asked him if he was alright.

"Yes, sir, I am excellent. My brother is alive still," is all Viktor replied before picking himself up from the floor and reseating himself in his chair.

Many students looked at Viktor oddly. Sure he was the poster boy for the Bulgarian and school Quidditch teams and all-around great student, but something had definitely changed since his brother had disappeared. He was more reclusive and quiet than he had been before.

His friend Stefan caught up to him in the hallway after class. "Viktor, what was that all about? You don't need people thinking a few too many screws are loose up there," he said while poking at Viktor's head.

"Aye, get off Stefan! I'm not going insane and I don't care what others think. My brother is alive and I can feel it. It's not some notion or idea. I can feel it on my skin when he's happy. You know how I told you I had a bad feeling for a while? I didn't feel his happiness for a few weeks and then in class it hit me like a bulger and I could hear his voice in my head saying 'don't let go' but it was in English." Viktor quickened his pace, "I have to go. I need to tell my parents."

Viktor had skipped his next class and taken the Floo to his house where he explained his story to Andor and Lailya. "Headmaster Karkaroff said there is a possibility that England will be hosting the Tri-Wizard Tournament at Hogwarts next year and I would be considered as a contender for Durmstrang. We could look for Kozmas out there. If he got away from whoever kidnapped him, surely his caretakers would send him to school, right?"

Andor nodded, "Well there isn't much we can do so far away from our home country but if you are chosen to contend in the Tri-Wizard Tournament for Durmstrang, then we would be happy to let you go and come to support your school during the tasks. As for Kozmas, I truly hope he isn't further away than England."

It was true that there was a great possibility that he could have been transported to the Americas but they could only hope otherwise. "I hope so too. At least he's happy again."

Now, Viktor had felt the flare in the mark on his chest. It felt like frustration and searching mixed together. It felt like his brother was reaching through the bond – like a hand being run across a taught thread. Viktor felt like there was another thread attached to it and it was being shaken. It was an odd feeling as far as feelings go.

Viktor was on his way back from the library when he felt it and it made him pause. What was causing this strange feeling?

January 30th, 1999

With total meditation, he could feel the bond. Just like Severus had said.

What with the mention of canine-homosapian hybrids messing with bonds, a challenge had been brought forth. Remus had wondered if it was like a werewolf life mate bond where they could feel the person as a part of them. Of course, said bond didn't cause physical pain if away from the werewolf's mate like it did for Az, but it turned out to be similar for the most part.

Severus had coached him on what to do and how to achieve finding his core and the thread that was their bond. He was amazed by the mental picture of the bond and his other talents in his core. He noted that he would have to do this again sometime soon.

Azrael felt it and, like a stretched thread, he mentally plucked it to send vibrations to Severus who in turn told him he could feel it. But there was something off about the string that signified the bond. There was another one leading off somewhere and he couldn't tell where. He knew that the one had lead to Severus because the thread had some characteristics that Azrael had considered to be 'Severus characteristics'. It glowed black with a white aura and was warm to the touch, well figuratively. The other one, he had no clue had even existed until now.

'Sev? There's a second string here.'

Severus rolled his eyes, "You're in your core; There are thousands of threads."

'No, there's a second bond string. They're tied together right at the start and go separate ways. Yours goes in the direction that you're standing and the other one is pointing a different way.

'That can only...'

"It means you have more than one human."

'Shit,' he cursed.

Severus paced before the fire and Remus looked on slightly confused. "More than one? There can _be_ more than one?"

"Yes, and apparently Azrael doesn't do things by halves either."


	19. Chapter 18: The Scars

Chapter 18: The Scars

February 3rd, 1999

"When you are finished practicing your form, Floo call your father. He said something about wolves this weekend and taking the bat and Moony with you. You are one strange wizard, Azrael." Helios shook his head and wandered back into his office where he was catching up on paperwork and homework marking. Sometimes this work was done by Azrael in his spare time but today he needed to squeeze in more practise.

'If only I were one to begin with,' he projected as he swung the practice sword in the precise movements. He was to be tested on his form when the sixth year defence class finished that day before lunch. He would call after his testing was finished.

The bell rang and sixth year students flooded in to find a duelling tournament set up. This time Azrael wasn't challenged and just continued to practise his form. He felt like it was a dance. The sword was simply a deadly extension of his arm as he moved in the precise movements, constantly twisting around to watch his back and stabbing at pretend opponents.

Finally the bell rang and Helios ran at Azrael with a sword. The fifteen year-old felt like time stopped for ten seconds for him to figure out what to do. 'Transfigure the wooden sword into metal,' he thought and the wooden practice sword changed in an instant and time was moving at normal speed again as Helios advanced at a run and sixth year students stopped to watch. Helios looked every bit like a man out for blood and took a swing at Azrael.

Time stopped again as Azrael stepped to the side of the moving sword and behind Helios. Helios suddenly jerked forward into his actual speed and the sword touched the wall before he spun around looking surprised that Azrael was behind him. The professor and protégé clanked swords and blocked countless hits from one another. Then Helios swung and was inches away from Azrael's face.

For a third time, everything paused and Azrael took the sword out of Helios' hand and transfigured it into a daisy while turning his own sword back into the wooden practice sword and putting it across the front of Helios' neck with his hand on each end to create a loop. Time resumed and the professor was knocked off his feet and 'held at sword point' which meant that Azrael won.

'Sir, time kept stopping for me whenever I felt like I was in danger. That's how I had time to transfigure everything and also how I ended up behind you twice. It's never happened to me before.' The teen looked concerned about this new development and Helios was at a loss for what to tell him.

"Time stopped? Are you sure it wasn't just your adrenaline kicking in?"

Azrael shook his head, 'I don't think so."

The professor shrugged and continued, "I'm not sure but in the mean time, go fire call your father and talk to him. It seemed important."

With a nod to his instructor, Azrael returned to his quarters and fire-called Sirius.

February 5th, 1999

Two pops signalled the apperation of Remus, Severus and Azrael into the forest close to Fenrir's pack. Sirius had demanded that Remus go with him and Severus since they would be staying so close to the pack all weekend. It was a Friday and Azrael had gotten the day off of training to do this. This time they sent up a spark through the top of the trees and once again the thundering of hundreds of feet was heard through the forest.

As it was less than a week after the full moon, they looked ragged and worn out. Fenrir growled for his party to stop their approach and motioned Azrael over. "Still with the bat, eh? I thought I said not to bring him."

'Non negotiable point. He has to be here otherwise I won't be able to do the procedures. I've transferred to Beauxbatons recently and the distance isn't favourable when it comes to our bond. If I'm in pain, then I can't proceed with helping you and your pack.'

Fenrir snarled towards Severus, "I'm sure a little headache wouldn't kill one such as yourself."

'I assure you that after two weeks away from him, I couldn't stand. There was no headache, just pain when I used magic and then it developed into any time of day or night. Do you know what it feels like to be ripped apart from the inside out and no one can figure out what's wrong with you? It's a feeling that I would never wish on anyone.'

"Fine, he can stay."

'He was going to anyways. Make no mistake Fenrir, I'm not human but creature like yourself. My bond with Severus is not going to be trifled with, especially when I'm the one helping you.' The werewolf growled and Azrael was led through the forest with Severus and Remus at his sides.

"I have half of them ready to go today and the other half tomorrow. I will show you to your accommodations when you finish," Fenrir ground out as they entered a cleared area that had a several small huts and a few caves along the outskirts. The three men were led into the biggest hut and they surveyed their workspace.

'Sterilize the area, summon four tables with curtains between and have the patients ready and on the tables right after another has been finished. We need two men to assist in removing treated patients,' he projected to Severus who then relayed instructions to everyone else. They had started off at a slow pace but the procedures became systematic.

Around six in the evening, Azrael had started to become weary and Severus had forced a Pepper Up potion into him to keep him going. A little after eleven, the first round of patients were done and the boy had sat in a chair off to the side and passed out from exhaustion. Severus picked up the boy and followed a sneering Fenrir to a tiny hut at the edge of the village where the three outsiders curled up on woven mats for the night. Azrael snuggled into the safety of Severus' arms and slept until the morning.

February 6th, 1999

A repeat of the previous day wore the young boy out. Severus again administered Pepper Up potions but every four hours that day instead of only once. That night Severus and Remus walked out of the village after Azrael had cured the last of the pack which had been Fenrir. The boy didn't show signs of waking any time soon as Remus carried his partial son to the apperation point, where they continued to Hogwarts so Madame Pomfrey could assist the teen in his recovery from exhaustion.

Severus sat by Azrael's bed while Remus returned home to get some sleep and Sirius returned to Hogwarts in his friend's stead that night. Sirius slowly approached the curtained off bed when he heard the two talking. "Did you notice that you trace over your scars when you're nervous or uncomfortable? You did it a lot this weekend – more than usual," the hook-nosed man said quietly. To Sirius' ears it was a foreign tone; one of care and kindness. It was not a tone he would've ever associated with one Severus Tobias Snape.

Azrael must have projected something because Severus let out a light laugh before shifting position in his seat. Sirius could hear the sound of the bedding of the hospital cot being patted and the chair Severus had occupied gave a small creak and the bed gave a bit of a groan under the added weight and shifting occupants. The thought of Snivellus being so close to his son made him see red. He was about to tear the curtain back and demand that the greasy-haired ephebophile back away from his son when a sound he had only heard once before met his ears.

"Scars are more tan just physical. I mean, have you ever stopped to tink tat tis is all some sort of test and 'sat we can't see the whole picture? Ve are blind wit our eyes wide open. Every touch, every feeling leaves a scar – a good von. Tese scars mark te soul and I vill forever hold a piece of you and everyvon else in tese scars. I vill never live vithout your trace. Tat is vhy I feel comfort from my scars – tey are you, my broter, my moter, my fater, Padfoot, Moony, Helios, Hellian, Fleur, Madame Pomfrey... everyvon. Tey are love." The last of the sleepy, accented words were caught by the matron whom had a dose of Dreamless Sleep in her hands that she had almost dropped in shock. This had snapped Sirius out of his rage and he withdrew himself away from the curtain.

"I don't think he needs it Poppy. I'll stay with him tonight and give it to him if he does need it on the off-chance," Severus spoke softly, as not to disturb Sirius' slumbering son. He moved forward and peeked through the edge of the curtain where Severus laid next to Naos Black and pulled the blanket over the boy more before brushing his now-long hair off of his porcelain toned face. The gesture was one of love and affection. Sirius backed away from the curtain once again and this time left the ward at a quick pace. His son was in Severus' capable hands. He would have to brood over the thought of that on his own.

February 7th, 1999

Azrael had spent the night in Severus' comforting embrace but the bliss came to an end when he had to return to Beauxbatons early to complete a test that Helios would have ready for him that night. He said goodbye to Sirius first so he could return home and see to it that Remus was recovering from his own exhaustion from the trip and the last moon.

Severus held the boy in a hug before letting go with a sad smile. "I'll see you next weekend." Azrael grabbed a handful of the yellowish powder and approached the grate. "People and therefore life isn't guaranteed or eternal. Hold onto love, not people."

This made Azrael turn for a moment and silently observe Severus. 'But if a person loves you and they leave then your love is gone, isn't it?'

"No," the potions professor went to Azrael, "People come and go; they live and die. It's a process that works in that order. But when you feel love, it's something that you never forget no matter if the person is in your life, out of your life, living or dead. You will always have the knowledge and feelings of being loved and no one can take away how you feel." Severus kissed Azrael's forehead.

'I love you too, Sev.'

"Get to school, love."


	20. Chapter 19: The Test

Chapter 19: The Test

February 8th, 1999

"It's an obstacle course. You need to approach each challenge with the proper solution. Oh, and also, some of my seventh years are in there. Just don't kill or seriously maim them. They're all in the same thing so you can pick them out easier." Helios gave Azrael a nudge towards the opening in a large circular ring of evergreen trees. The course was closed off with only one opening in which to enter and exit. "See you in a bit, hopefully."

Azrael looked at his mentor and rolled his eyes. So much for faith in his protégé, thought Azrael. The boy was still peeved about having to come back early for no reason as this challenge had been delayed by over 12 hours which he could've spent with Severus. He took a deep breath of moist, cool morning air before he entered the hole in the tree line and saw an arrow pointing him to the right. Something was off. He sent his magic out around him and sensed many beings, humans, before him on the path. Maybe Helios expected him to think there wouldn't be any major challenge until further into the course. The problem was that these people had fully developed magical signatures so he figured Helios had neglected to mention other people besides his seventh years were on the course.

He melted into a fog and made it sound like he was still walking down the path. He came through the trees, sensing people but seeing no one. He searched for them on the ground before deciding to move up and saw was looked like aurors in muggle military regalia blending in with the shrubbery in the air. He sent a gust of wind ripping through the small area, making the aurors silently hold on tighter. The wind speeds increased, sending the aurors out of the trees and into a cyclone that funnelled down in the center of the course's path. Azrael scanned for them and got all but one in the twister before sending them flying out of the maze. The last man was simply thrown out with a wave of his hand.

The teen continued through when a knife was sent across his path and cut his arm as he didn't move away quickly enough. Three more knives came at him and time slowed again as it had during the sword fight with Helios he dived over one and underneath the other two before running further into the course, away from the knives as more came at him. He felt one knick him on his lower back and another made a slice across his stomach as it was thrown into his path. He one on his stomach hurt the most but he ignored it for the moment.

Then a group of sword and wand-wielding seventh years ran at him in all directions to attack. The swords were dull but charmed to mark in red, temporarily irremovable ink where the victim would've been sliced by the blade with the ink getting darker to mark deeper 'wounds'.

Azrael was going into panic mode and sent out a ripple of seemingly accidental raw magic that shot out at the 'enemies' and took the seventh years out like a tsunami devastating a seaside city in one fall sweep. He shook with anxiety, not knowing if he hurt anyone and ran for the exit to get Helios. The air was thick as he moved faster but not fast enough to the exit. His mind was fogged as he got to the end and saw Helios smiling in congratulations. He explained what happened in a hurried jumble and his mentor who seemed to fly on the wind to the seventh years while Azrael tried to gain his bearings. He felt the wounds then from the knives tenfold.

As he removed his hand from his stomach he saw the blood and his mind registered that he was hurt. The sight of the blood thickly smeared across his hand made Azrael feel queasy. He felt another hand on his shoulder and Helios telling him everything was fine before the man realized the blood coming from Azrael's stomach was more than a minor wound. He felt himself being jostled and pain in his stomach as his mentor picked him up and ran him into the school with an auror or two that he had thrown from the maze following.

"What can we do to help?" the one auror asked in French.

"Go to Maxime's office and get her to get Severus Snape over here from Hogwarts. Azrael is in no position to be Flooed to Hogwarts. Hurry," Helios urged. Azrael felt bile come up from his throat and was sick on his bloodied, stained and torn robes. He could hear Helios making a sound of disgust when the loud pounding noise of Helios kicking open the Infirmary doors came and Mlle Fitch came out from behind another partition and turned pale at the sight of the young transfer student.

"He was cut during the obstacle course and is bleeding." The Medi-Witch nodded and motioned to an unoccupied partition where Helios set the boy down and was immediately ordered to leave. The man anxiously paced the middle aisle for twenty or so minutes as he heard cries of pain but they quieted down a bit. Then the door burst open with the aurors running into the room after a tall man dressed in all-black robes.

"Where is he?" the man commanded and Helios pointed to the curtain, not needing to be told that this man was the one and only Severus Snape. He remembered him from Azrael's Patronus forms. Severus went into the partition and talked with Mademoiselle Fitch about what happened and the injury.

"There will be a scar and the bleeding was stopped internally but he may not be able to bear children if he wanted to in the future as the area that was affected is the place where a man's magical womb would grow. I'm not sure if that would be a concern for him but it's still possible. He however can still have kids in the other aspect, which I'm sure he should be glad of. His body, however, rejected the blood replenishing potion so he should be out for a day and tired for another. I also gave him a pain relieving potion which his body rejected as well. He should have pain for about a week if the salves work properly," the matron reported as Severus nodded, taking everything in.

Severus knew Azrael was homosexual so there was a chance that he might want to bear children with his mate somewhere down the road. He felt a tingle of jealousy at the thought of his Ángel with someone else but he would support his Ángel in his decisions. "Thank you," Snape whispered as he looked at his young companion and the matron left.

"Why do you continue to scare me?" Severus pulled the chair closer to the bed and grasped one of the warm but limp hands that lay still on the white bed sheets. "I love you, Ángel, and I don't want to lose you, you foolish boy." The man felt many years older than he was and was still shaken from when he got the message relayed to him by Fawkes during the middle of his first-year class. He had barely remembered to douse all fires under the cauldrons before running through his office and into his quarters to Floo up to Dumbledore's office. As he sifted through the memory, Severus couldn't remember himself ever running faster than he had down to the infirmary.

The boy moved then, shifting so that he lay on his side, curled into himself. His complexion seemed paler than it had been the day before, thought Severus as he squeezed Azrael's hand. The pacing outside the partition came to a stop and the curtain was pulled aside. "Is he alright?"

Severus turned his eyes away from the sleeping youth to see the man that had directed him into the partition in his haste. "And you are?"

"I am Azrael's mentor, Helios Sage."

Severus looked back at the white sheets on the bed that covered Azrael before conjuring a soft black blanket to keep his Angel warm. "He should be alright in a week."

The other man nodded silently before straightening his posture, "Well, I'll pass along the good news to the ones that need to know. My sisters have seemed to have grown an affinity towards him and his radiating personality and skill." There was an awkward silence for a few seconds before Helios excused himself to go teach his first class of the day.

February 10th, 1999

Two days after the incident Azrael was able to walk with a little pain and went back to Hogwarts with Severus for the rest of his days that he needed to heal. As Azrael slept between the silky, midnight sheets of his best friend's bed, Severus had gone to see the headmaster.

"Severus, come in," Albus called softly before Severus could knock on the door to his office. He entered obediently and sat in the chair before the ornate desk. "Lemon drop? No? Well it is good to see you back m'boy. Ready to resume your classes, I presume."

"No, Albus. I need whoever is taking over my classes to keep doing so. I'm not in a position to teach for the next few days. I need more time with Azrael as he's healing."

Albus' bushy eyebrows rose in inquisition and surprise. "But you are back. That must mean that Azrael is fine. Surely you can teach some of your classes if you want half days off to go visit Azrael in France. We could work something out," he insisted.

"No. I am taking care of Azrael. I brought him back with me and he should be fully healed in a few days. I will resume teaching then and not a moment sooner," Severus flat-out refused. "If you refuse my request I will have no qualms about putting in my letter of resignation."

With a twinkle in his eyes, Albus sat back in his chair with his fingertips together in a steeple. "That will not be necessary. Let me know when you are ready to return, m'boy. Please pass on my well wishes to Azrael and hopes for a speedy recovery." The headmaster gave his Potions Master a smile and Severus stood, not completely understanding what was going on in the old man's mind. He nodded before turning and leaving the room at his usual, purposeful stride, robes billowing in his wake.

Albus Dumbledore shook his head whilst still smiling. He was proud of Severus. He had finally let down his walls completely for someone. He knew all along that this would happen and he was glad that Naos 'Azrael' Black had wormed his way into Severus' cold heart and warmed it to human level. Severus needed someone else in his life to care about and, more importantly, someone who reciprocated those feelings of care and love. Severus could deny it all he wanted but Albus was one-hundred percent sure that Severus Tobias Snape, Potions Master and feared dungeon bat of Hogwarts School, ex-Death Eater extraordinaire was completely and assuredly in love with the boy.

Slowing his stride, Severus stopped outside the entrance to his rooms and entered after giving his whispered password. Azrael was in the kitchen and reaching for a glass out of the cupboard. "Ángel, you should be in bed."

'But Sev, it's not that bad. I was just grabbing a drink,' he protested warily even though his mental link. Azrael had never looked worse than he had in the past day of recovery. When he had awoken, he had whimpered in pain and tears had come to his eyes. It almost made Severus wish that he had stayed asleep except that seeing his Ángel's eyes had reassured him that he would be okay.

"If you don't put down that glass and get back in bed this very moment, so help me, I will carry you there and sit on you to ensure you stay there," Severus threatened in his Professor Snape voice.

Azrael smiled and shook his head, continuing to the sink with a wince as he walked, 'Your 'tough teacher' voice doesn't work on me.'

"As you wish," was all Severus said before unbuttoning the front of his robe and laying it neatly over the back of his couch. He rolled up the white sleeves of his shirt and advanced on the teen before swiftly and carefully sweeping Azrael into his arms and walking to the bedroom. The glass had been dropped in the sink in the boy's surprise at Severus' threat being carried out.

Azrael was tucked under the sheets and Severus, true to his word, sat at the end of the bed on his friend's blanket-covered feet before smirking at the tired and annoyed Azrael. "Would you like to try again?"


	21. Chapter 20: The Kettle

Chapter 20: The Kettle

April 28th, 1999

Fleur ran up behind Azrael and jumped on his back. He had heard her coming and now that he was fully immersed in Helios' workout and diet plan, he had not only gained muscle, but by some stroke of luck, he had hit a tiny growth spurt too. As a result, Azrael had managed to not topple forward after the French part-veela girl had launched her petite body at him.

'Well hello,' he projected over his shoulder at the blue-eyed girl.

"Bonjour!" she exclaimed as Azrael continued walking with her on his back. She began prattling on in French about how Jo's hair was spelled pink after a spell gone awry and Azrael just nodded, only interrupting to ask if she wanted to go to his room to hang out. Fleur muttered a quick 'oui' and they continued on their trek through the school with Fleur on Azrael's back.

By the time they got to Azrael's room they were conversing about hair colours in general. 'I think Jo looks good with brown hair.'

"Oui, but she would look better with a dark blond," she countered as Az took down the wards on his door and she whispered the password as one of three people who knew the password to Azrael's rooms.

'Why don't you colour your hair. I'm sure you'd still look gorgeous in any colour you chose – even green,' he teased. Fleur had become obsessed with how green his eyes were.

"Pas de vert," she moaned in dismay. "À mon dieu."

He dumped Fleur unceremoniously on the sofa and plopped down beside his giggling friend. He liked Fleur for her mind and sense of humour. She also didn't push the whole creature issue like others would have as she knew what it was like. She liked Azrael because he was one of the few male students at Beauxbatons that didn't drool and fawn over her. Plus he was easy to get along with.

Fleur's hair dangled in front of her eyes and Azrael pushed it back, tucking it behind her ear. 'You were saying?' he asked, bringing Fleur out of her dazed state. She, on impulse, closed the distance between their faces and kissed Azrael.

He jerked back, eyes wide and fell off the couch. "Oh my – I'm so sorry! Are you hurt?" Fleur was scared that he had hurt himself in his haste to dislodge her lips from his own.

'Why did you do that? I- I- I'm not even straight!' the boy shouted in distress. 'Ouch. That burns,' he projected off-handed. His finger gingerly touched his lips and they felt like they were scorched and bruised.

"Where are you hurt?"

'My lips; they feel really painful. I think it's the bond kicking in. Maybe Severus can fix it if it doesn't go away,' he trailed off before glaring up at Fleur. 'Why did you kiss me?'

She flushed, "To make sure we had no chance at being anything other than friends."

'You could have asked. I would've told you I'm gay.'

Fleur tilted her head, "What is 'gay'? I'm not familiar with the English term?"

'Uh... gay is another word for homosexual,' he said bluntly.

"Oh... You don't like girls then... Great, you can help me with something else then. Please, Azzie?" Fleur crooned.

'As long as it's nothing embarrassing and you never call me Azzie again,' he agreed.

April 30th, 1999

"Az! Je veut ce! Pleeeeease! You have agreed already. Come on. Do not be un bébé."

Azrael's brows furrowed together. 'I don't think I can do this. You are my friend Fleur but I can't just walk up to another guy and talk feelings with him. I don't have feelings, remember?'

With a toss of her silver-blond hair, Fleur fluttered her lashes at her companion. "I promises it will work. And of course you do. Nous sommes amies, non?"

He rolled his eyes at her improper English that she was slowly improving by talking to him every day. 'You are so lucky I'm seeing Severus tonight. My lip is killing me. It looks like I was punched.' His hand subconsciously lifted to the sore area on the right side of Azrael's mouth. It was turning a purplish colour as if he had been in a fight and had taken a heavy blow to the mouth. He had been ruminating on how he would get rid of it for the past few days as bruise salve and washing the area hadn't done a thing.

In all honesty, Azrael felt like there was no way Fleur's crazy idea would work – at all. She had roped him into telling her crush that she liked him. Dear Merlin... this had trouble written all over it.

"What happened to you?" Severus demanded as soon as he caught sight of his young friend. He grasped Azrael's jaw and examined his bruised lip.

'Fleur, actually, believe it or not. She didn't even hit me.'

"Then what did she do?"

Azrael quirked an eyebrow, 'Give me your hand.' He took the older man's hand and placed it firmly over the bruise. It hurt more at first but then the swelling disappeared altogether as if it had never existed. Releasing Severus' potion-stained fingers, he grinned. 'Fleur kissed me and that's what happened, Sev. No joke.'

"How peculiar."

Severus pulled his hand back as he realized he was still in the hallway as Azrael had arrived early and had come to find him. The younger man looked up at the intrigued expression on the Potion Master's face and smiled. 'You're hiding something. What are you thinking? Is it news?' The older just waved his comment off and they proceeded down to the dungeons. Azrael found himself wondering what it was that Severus didn't want the students around them to know.

Once they were through Snape's office and into their shared quarters, Severus elaborated on his silence. "We found out today that in four months, Hogwarts will be hosting the Tri-Wizard Tournament. The students aren't allowed to know until September when it is announced by the Headmaster, which includes your Beauxbatons friends."

Upon receiving a puzzled look, Severus continued, "The Tri-Wizard Tournament promotes camaraderie amongst the three big schools: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang." He walked into the kitchen and Azrael followed, listening intently. "The visiting schools bring a selection of around twenty to thirty delegates from their school along with the Headmaster or Headmistress and a few of their teaching staff," he said as he filled a kettle with water and set it to boil. "One champion is chosen from each school by a third party and those three students then must compete in three gruelling tasks."

After a moment of thought, Azrael asked, 'What types of tasks?'

"Dangerous and life-threatening ones. Children have died in this competition. And for what; A thousand galleons and their name written on a cup they'll never see again?" Severus snapped.

'Sev, what's wrong? Why are you so snippy?'

"I want you to promise me you won't even think about entering," he blurted out. There was a knock on the door in the middle of Severus' sentence. He hastened his way to the door and exited to his office where the knock had originated from.

Hesitant hands lifted the hot kettle off the stove and reached into the cupboards with familiarity for well-aged mugs. As Azrael started dousing the tea leaves in boiling water from the kettle, Severus' stride approached the door again with more than one other pair of feet following. "Ángel, we have company," he said dully. As he came into sight, Azrael could see the older man giving him a 'we'll talk about this later' look.

He reached for two more tea cups from the worn shelf that bowed with its burden of dishes. He looked up to see his "father" and Remus' smiling faces protruding from behind Severus' dark form.

"Pup! We've missed you!" Sirius was elated by the sight of the boy that had grown up so much over the last year and a half. "It's as if we never see you anymore." He embraced his pseudo-son.

The youth snorted and gave a smile, 'That's probably because I live in France now.' He projected while squeezing back.

With a roll of his blue eyes, Sirius relented and released his grip and moved aside for Remus.

"He's been driving me up the wall for a month now to come and visit and let him out of his gilded cage for once," Remus whispered conspiratorially in his ear during their embrace.

'You should visit more then,' was his cheeky response. 'Tea?' he offered as he remembered the cooling kettle and the tea cups.

Echoes of "yes" reached his ears and he shooed everyone out of the kitchen so as to have more space in the tiny nook. Azrael prepared tea and brought it out on a tray before taking his seat. He gave Sirius and Remus their cups before fixing one for Severus and himself out of habit.

Sirius eyed the familiar camaraderie betwixt the two men before him and saw a faint appreciative smile on Snape's lips that hadn't been there in the entirety of their childhood at Hogwarts. He thought for a moment that maybe there was more to the relationship between his "son" and the greasy bat than met the naked eye. No matter how much he detested the dour, black-clad man in front of him; no matter how he loathed that Severus Snape was still around after all these years – he found himself appreciating the person he was helping his son grow into.

And as long as Azrael was happy, he was content. He could live with having to come down to the lowliest dregs of the Hogwarts dungeons if this was where his son wanted to live. He could live with ignoring the existence of the hook-nosed git across the table. He could live with insulting Snape a million ways to hell only in his head to make Azrael happy.

He would, of course, still wish the stiff would drop dead any minute now, but he would not say it... not in front of his kid, anyways.

Sirius excused himself from the table to get more tea. He carried his cup into the kitchen before anyone could see the grin formulating on his face at the thought of Snape dead. The only one who seemed to notice anything amiss was Remus. The werewolf could tell his companion was thinking something not by his expressions, but his actions.

It was only when Sirius was in the kitchen with the kettle in his hand that he had realized his actions as well – he still had a cupful of tea.


	22. Chapter 21: The Line

Chapter 21: The Line

June 26th, 1999

Annoying echoes rang through Severus' head as he listened to Black prattle on about his "son" or "pup" as he had mundanely dubbed the Potion Master's companion of choice. Today they were going to witness his graduation from Beauxbatons after only a semester at the school. Azrael had refused to tell them his final exam marks but they all had suspicions that he would pull through on the honour roll. Though he was technically in his fifth year, there wasn't anything left for him to do at Beauxbatons or Hogwarts as far as academia, so Madame Maxime had proposed he graduate unofficially from the school as a sort of farewell to the accomplished fifth year boy.

As it was, Severus quietly endured the talkative mutt for the sake of peace. After all, Sirius was doing him a favour; he had given Severus permission as his Ángel's guardian to take Az on a trip to the tropics. It was a surprise for the boy as congratulations for his achievements and a much-needed holiday for both friends.

After a few hours in the hot Parisian sun, the two men had returned to the Floo terminal and waited in line to get enough powder to get them to Beauxbatons with Severus already slightly rethinking the smothering heat of his chosen vacation location.

Azrael was pacing in his graduation robes. He was nervous about whether his fathers and Sev would be able to make it. Moony probably wouldn't because it was so close to the next moon. He was pacing outside the dinner hall where the ceremony was to be held. Some of the other graduates had assumed the same fate while many were content to gab excitedly with their friends.

A tap on the shoulder broke his train of thought as he turned to see Fleur in a light blue dress. Her part-veela heritage showed through with inhuman beauty. She flashed him her award-winning smile and kissed him on each cheek before pulling him into a tight hug. "I'm so proud of you my little foreigner."

'I guess since you get to see me graduate, you have to invite me to yours. You're bound to be the top of your class; the valedictorian,' he mused. Fleur's laugh was interrupted by a cough and Az turned to see his best friend. "Sev!" his voice rang through the small room and many turned to see the small transfer student fling himself at the tall, dour Potions Master Severus Snape. Most of the students in the room had never even heard a peep from the boy let alone a yell and were surprised by the accented cry that didn't sound remotely English.

"Ángel," he greeted as he embraced his companion. "Your father is here but Lupin had to stay home for his transformation."

'Where is he?'

"He's finding seats. I just wanted to let you know we're here and will meet with you when the ceremony is finished." He released his Ángel with one final squeeze and left the room with a billow of his robes.

"So that is Severus Snape?" asked Fleur with a grin on her face from behind Azrael. "Isn't stuff like that forbidden between teachers and students?"

'It doesn't matter what the rules are. I'm not human and my instincts drove me to create a bond with him. That bond supersedes any wizard-made laws about teacher-student relations.' He scoffed and looked at his feet before looking Fleur in the eye. 'Besides he is just a friend – a companion of the closest sort, nothing more.'

Fleur rolled her eyes and shook her silvery-blonde tresses, "You know, thousands of years ago, the word companion meant lover, not friend. I don't believe he only wants to be your friend. I can feel it."

The door at the side of the room opened and Professor Helena walked in to escort the graduates into the hall. Fleur took this as her opportunity to slip out and grab a seat in the crowded hall.

After much pageantry, the ceremony commenced with three speakers and Sirius was about to gauge out his eyes with frustration of listening to speeches in a foreign language when graduates lined up at one side of the podium. Many of the students wore coloured scarves to indicate honours in a certain field. His pup was fourth in line and bore gold and green scarves. A girl named Évangéline Beaupré was called and then Sirius' pup, his Naos, his Harry – his son – was called.

"Naos Black. Suma cum laude," was all Sirius heard as a tear dripped from the corner of his eye. A camera flashed as he walked across the stage and accepted his graduation ring from Professor Helios.

Severus watched the stage also and couldn't help but feel immense pride. His companion deserved everything he had worked so hard for.

Az felt a tingle of love go through is body as he walked off the stage and returned to his seat in the sea of baby blue graduation robes.

June 26th, 1999

The wind whistled in his ear and the sun gazed over his goggles as Viktor flew his broom after the snitch – he was seeker for Bulgaria this summer season. His place on the team was a bittersweet pill to swallow as his brother Kozmas was to be Seeker originally. Viktor was good at it but nowhere near as good as his brother at catching the snitch.

His mark tingled as he flew and he couldn't help feeling invincible to anything that might come his way. His brother was happy so he could be happy. It made him feel better about catching the snitch in his first season game where Kozmas was supposed to be getting the glory of capturing the elusive golden ball.

As he landed, he was thrust upon the shoulders of his team as they chanted. Their chant went unheard over the roar of "Krum! Krum! Krum!" from the crowd.

He could feel something then, something different; something of a divine nature that told him his brother was in love. His grin grew to a smile and he joined his team chanting. His chant, however, was not in honour of their win, but for the lucky person who had won his little brother's heart. Kozmas deserved to love and be loved, he thought as he remembered the boy chained to the wall of that cave so many years ago and his first word had been his name.

"Viktor."

June 30th, 1999

"Viktor!" he cried as he sat up in bed. He panted for breath as he remembered his vivid dream of chaos surrounding them. Blurry sight had prevented him from seeing everything properly but he had been with his mother and father walking down the street. He walked close enough to his brother that their shoulders brushed with every step. The street had exploded into red light beams as people dropped to the ground – stunners he now recalled. A black cloaked figured had come from behind and pulled him away as he reached his scarred arm out for his brother.

Then everything went black.

He got up and pulled on a pair of pyjama pants over his boxers before padding down the hall. He heard stirring on the floor below – he had probably woken Remus with his shout as the man had wolf-like hearing. He wasn't seeking the stairs to Remus and Sirius' rooms tonight. He was seeking the comfort of his human who had been allowed to stay grudgingly by the aforementioned father of one Naos Black.

He could hear Severus stirring too. Apparently Sirius was the only heavy sleeper in the house. He opened the door and admitted himself to the room quietly and went to the bed before climbing in without preamble. His best friend, most trusted confidant, gathered him close and they went to sleep without a word from either. None were needed.

July 4th, 1999

The sun shone brightly on the two men as they simply sat lounging on the quiet beach. Azrael turned to look at his companion and gave a small laugh. They had both burned under the light of the sun and the sight of the red Potions Master was funny. He could imagine the aghast looks of the students upon returning to school to see their most horrifying teacher with a tan on the skin that was usually so pale and sallow from little to no sun exposure that the man was so used to.

The tan would suit his look, he decided then. He could picture Severus' visage with a healthy browned colour and his forearms would be the same on the days when the dour man was brewing in his lab and had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, coving the topmost of the tattoo that marred the sensitive skin of his inner arm.

Just then two girls walked past and they stared at Azrael. He tried not to notice but it was hard to when they were talking about his scars and markings as if he couldn't hear them.

He resigned to closing his eyes and sitting back when Severus stood up beside him and cast a tall shadow over him. "Come on," he spoke softly to him as he offered his Ángel a hand. They walked to the cabin on the beach in silence as Azrael continued to observe his companion.

Severus' usual teaching robes were stifling and couldn't be donned in these tropical temperatures so he was resigned to shorts and t-shirts. The normal robes didn't do his form justice, decided Azrael silently before giving a small private smile to himself. He wrapped an arm around his Sev and relished in the feeling of his human responding in kind to his affectionate gesture. He could feel solid abdominal muscles rippling beneath his fingers and smiled.

If his peers could see their professor like this, they would never think him scary or frightening ever again.

Upon reaching the wrap-around porch of their rented cabin, Severus pulled him to the porch swing and wrapped the younger man in his arms. The inner animal in Azrael felt safe and protected; contented in their places on the swing and he relaxed as Severus' index finger traced the tattooed swirls along his temple. The skin was smooth under the Potions Master's rough finger and he caressed it like the youth beneath his touch might shatter if he wasn't careful.

Azrael tilted his head to the side and opened his eyes, which had closed while he had been basking in Severus' ministrations, and looked in the dark eyes that bore the slightest hint of brown in the encompassing blackness. He could hear the man's heart beating steadily and strong in his chest.

Severus stared down into the emerald eyes that usually reminded him of his late friend Lily Potter nee Evans but at the moment she was nowhere to be found in his mind. His instincts pulled him closer and closer to those jewel-like eyes until the green eyes closed and he bestowed upon the flushed, pink cheek a single kiss.

"My Ángel," he whispered. "I…"

'I know.'

A short silence followed for a moment before Azrael's hand touched the slightly stubbly cheek of his beloved companion like a veil of silk over the other man's flesh. "I love you too." Obsidian met emerald as they contemplated one another's confession and the line that had been crossed. There was no turning back now. Severus simply pulled him closer as they watched the sun going down long into the afternoon.

They were content.

Utterly and unequivocally content.


	23. Chapter 22: The Calm

Chapter 22: The Calm

August 25th, 1999

The silver-blonde hair rippled as Fleur shook it out of her eyes. "What has you on zee edge, Azzie?"

Azrael leaned back against the black leather couch and looked up to the stone ceiling above as if the answer to life was carved and chiselled by earlier generations into it. He seemed to interpret its message as easily as a blind person could read a hidden message off a stucco wall. He nursed his tea before taking a sip. 'Something is coming… I don't know what but it's coming.'

Fleur arched a perfectly manicured brow, "Some-_sing_ or eez it some-_one_?"

'Je ne sais pas.'

Azrael returned to decoding the ceiling while his friend was sitting opposite him quietly in his Hogwarts quarters sipping tea. They were waiting for Severus to be finished showering so they could go out to dinner.

"Ángel," came the soft call from the bedroom and Fleur watched her friend rise at the beckoning. "Do you know where my-"

'I'll get it.'

She giggled as they acted like a married couple. They seemed like a couple the more and more that she saw them together. Their actions, speech and personalities moved in tandem with each other. It was remarkable to see them together. It was like dancing while no one was watching. Normal mannerisms and expectations of society faded away in one another's presence.

Severus came out of the room with Azrael following with a smug grin on his face. "Le Coq it is then," Severus seemed to be giving in.

The smugness emanated off of Az in waves while Severus did up the last few button of his pristine black robes. The boy held in his hand the Potion Master's wand before stowing it in his sleeve without Severus knowing.

Something seemed to ring in Severus' mind then that told him he was missing something. "Ángel, I know I asked you before if you knew where my wand was."

'I know.'

"And…?"

'Just waiting.'

"For what?" the taller man demanded.

'For you to say 'please'.'

"Can I please have my wand?"

Azrael frowned and shook his head retrieving the wand from its hidden place. 'And here I thought you were a wizard with enough power to wandlessly _accio_ your wand yourself.'

One playful stinging hex and some choice curse words later, the three headed into the hall to leave the castle and apparate to London for dinner. Fleur couldn't help but notice their fingers interlaced and the clenched fingers on the Potions Master's robes when apparating. She also noticed the older man's silent reluctance to let go once in London.

October 27th, 1999

With Umbridge sacked the previous year, a new Defence teacher was found and the school was thankfully no longer under her dictatorship. This meant that Azrael needed no official reason to be at Hogwarts for another year when he was not enrolled in any classes nor was he mentoring or apprenticing. His position was described as 'floating'.

He would 'float' here and he would 'float' there and act as a second set of hands where needed around Hogwarts. Mostly he was back in the lab with Severus as they moved in a silent dance of concentration around dozens of boiling cauldrons with potions for the infirmary and Severus' owl order customers as well as his own private stores. The first month had passed quickly and the students of Hogwarts were becoming acclimated to seeing him at various lessons.

Hagrid especially was happy to have him around since the unicorns liked him and enabled the Care of Magical Creatures classes to view them up close. The youngest foal of the herd had taken quite nicely to Azrael and could be seen occasionally at the edge of the forest peering out at the lawns of Hogwarts. He also was a fixture in the older students' Defence Against the Dark Arts classes. Since Hogwarts' parent council had reconvened on the matter of Remus teaching, the original ruling against the werewolf had been overturned and he was back for another year.

During those days of the moon, Severus no longer was needed to proctor classes. Azrael was always the substitute for his adoptive father on those days and usually, these days were used for duelling or for essay-writing depending on Azrael's mood. The students realized his authority, though he was younger than or the same age as around a third of the school, and tried their best _not_ to piss him off close to the full moon in hopes of not having to write an essay for the next few days.

Another change was his position in the great hall as he was now seated at the head table beside his companion instead of at the Slytherin table as the last of his friends had graduated last year. He no longer took any classes at Hogwarts but he was looking forward to the new adventure of this year: The Tri-Wizard Tournament.

This also worried Severus to a large degree. "You still do not intend on entering, correct?" He let his worry show on his face as they got ready for bed. He young man rolled his eyes as he brushed his teeth, not deigning to answer. "I'm serious Ángel, I'm not joking about this. I put my foot down about this here and now. I cannot and will not live through the anxiety of your life being in danger just for your name to go on a cup."

Azrael spit out the tooth paste and rinsed his mouth.

"Are you listening to me?"

Standing on the tips of his toes for a moment, he placed a quick kiss on Severus' cheek. 'I heard you and I'll probably keep hearing this until the champions are picked and my name does not come out of the flaming goblet. Don't worry so much.'

"I know," bristled the elder man, "but this is so difficult. My problem lies in what I cannot change."

'Then stop worrying about where your problem lies and come lay down. I'm tired and want to go to sleep.' The boy crawled into the large bed and pulled the covers over his lithe form.

Severus sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Fine."

October 28th, 1999

"The delegates will be arriving soon," Severus whispered in Azrael's ear as they came up to the gathered crowd outside of the school doors. The air was rank with idle chatter and the wind gusted across the ground, gathering leaves from the Whomping Willow and sweeping them towards the Forbidden Forest.

Then a carriage came into sight. Azrael pulled Severus forward by the hand, successfully parting the crowd like the red sea. The mass of people were split between watching the giant horses descending from the sky and Azrael toting their dour Potions Master through the crowd after him as if he were a favoured accessory.

The four horses came to a stop and the door to the carriage was opened. A boy jumped out of the blue carriage and rolled out the stairs for Headmistress Madame Maxime. As a former student of Beauxbatons, Azrael came forward and greeted the Headmistress.

'Bon soir, Madame. Bienvenue à Poudlard.'

Madame Maxime smiled at the boy, recognizing him instantly. « Ah! Azrael, mon petit étudiant. Comment ça va? »

'Bien, Madame.'

« Qui est ton ami? » she asked, confused at the sight of her former student with his hand clasped in the hand of a sour-looking man.

'Il s'appelle Severus Snape, Madame,' he introduced his companion. 'Il est le professeur de potions.'

They were then cut off by a shout of, « Azzie! Mon petit anglais! » Severus looked away from the towering woman to see Fleur bounding their way gracefully. "Severus! So good to see you!" she greeted in English. Turning back to her friend she grinned widely. "Sarah is here too."

'I miss her. It seems like forever since I have talked with any of the others – Jo, Celeste or Sarah.'

Severus observed the two teens before him gabbing like gal pals. It was no wonder he had become friends with her; his smile and flamboyant attitude were stifling as she talked about a girl named Celeste and how she broke her foot and shattered two bones in her legs when she fell while flying on a borrowed broom. She was recovering well at home and would sadly not come when she recovered.

"Do you know when zee boys from Durmstrang will arrive?" Sarah asked as she approached the three of them.

'They should be here soon. We should go inside before you two freeze out here,' Azrael noted as the two girls gave a slight shiver in their thin, silky blue robes that didn't do much to keep them warm.

The four headed inside with Severus bidding them goodbye as he took the staff entrance into the back of the Great Hall. He didn't want to intrude on their little circle as this was one of the things that Severus insisted Azrael needed – friends. Fleur waved politely as they switched back and forth between English and French.

Many of the Hogwarts students stared at the small group and their intrigue only increased when a Beauxbatons teacher came through the door to the entrance hall and made a beeline for their mute classmate. "Az!" Helios called as he strolled towards the trio. His prize pupil turned and greeted him with a clasp of the forearm.

'You have not changed a bit,' the grinning youth projected.

Helios echoed the sentiment. "I see you have settled back in here quite well. Are you still a student?"

'Officially? Yes. Unofficially, no, not one bit. I supply teach and aid a bit in the classes that need help or have a werewolf for their professor.' With a smile, Azrael continued, 'You must meet my father Remus, by the way. I have a feeling you will like him – and Fillius too.'

Madame Maxime gathered all her students in an unused classroom to the side of the Great Hall as everyone else was ushered into the Hall. The Durmstrang ship had just arrived and the ceremonies would start in a few moments. Fleur and Sarah blew kisses goodbye and smirked delightfully at the envious looks most of the male population was giving their best friend.

Azrael went to the staff entrance and entered the Hall behind the staff table to find his seat reserved between Severus and Fillius. There were several empty spaces this year at the elongated table to accommodate the extra staff members brought from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Professor Dumbledore stood to silence the crowd and walked around to the front of the table.

"This year," he began, "it is my honour to introduce to you after many years, the delegates from one of our competing schools, Beauxbatons Academy! They are accompanied by their Headmistress, Madame Maxime." The girls headed the front of the group, twirling in their blue uniform dresses looking majestic as always. Azrael spotted someone he hadn't seen in the crowd earlier: Fleur's younger sister Gabrielle. Dumbledore greeted Madame Maxime with a kiss on the back of her hand and her students dispersed along the Ravenclaw table.

The Headmaster continued speaking when the new students were settled. "It is also my pleasure to introduce the strapping young men from Durmstrang accompanied by their Headmaster, Professor Karkaroff!"

Thuds sounded on the marble floor in the most familiar way as Az tapped out the rhythm in perfect time with the foreign boys. Severus stiffened next to him as Karkaroff shook hands with Dumbledore and now had his eyes glued on Severus' inky-haired companion. Him mouth formed one silent word. "Impossible."

Then Viktor Krum came strolling through the doors to the Great Hall, covertly scanning the crowd for his brother with hope. His hope was crushed as no face had stood out and stepped to the front of his pack of classmates. His eyes followed the same direction of his Headmaster's and he froze.

**A/N: Sorry that updates are slow but I am still working on this story. The next chapter "The Bomb" is on its way.**


	24. Chapter 23: The Bomb

Chapter 23: The Bomb

October 28th, 1999

"Kozmas!" he screamed out above the noise. Everything stopped as everyone watched Viktor's chest heaving for breath. Naos Black stood from his seat then disappeared in a gust of sudden wind.

Viktor's head whipped around left and right. "Where is he!" he shouted angrily in Bulgarian. He turned on Dumbledore. "You! Where is my brother!" his voice commanded an answer to a question the old man did not understand.

"Here!" the voice of an angel called from a few feet behind him.

He turned on the boy that so resembled his baby brother. "What is your name?"

"You know who I am."

"Say it!"

"My name is Kozmas Izaak Krum. I remember it now."

Viktor's eyes remained unchanged for a moment before he punched the boy in the face. A scream broke out in the crowd at the surprise hit. Professors Snape, Lupin and Dumbledore were about to intercede when Karkaroff held them back with a smile and motioned for them to watch the exchange. The smaller of the two boys picked himself up with a smirk. His nose was dribbling a bit of blood on the floor of the Great Hall as he walked up to the taller boy. He motioned the taller boy to lean down and he complied. Within a second the taller one was on the floor, bleeding from the nose caused by a head butt, smirking as well.

The crowd of students watched in awe, preparing to view the little, weird, silent kid of their school get pummelled to death by Viktor Krum, international Quidditch star. They waited with baited breath as Viktor stood to full height again approached the puny boy. They were extremely confused when he swept up the boy in a hug with a smile.

Applause started as the boys from Durmstrang gathered around the pair and started chanting "Kozmas!" for all they were worth.

No one in the crowd besides the Bulgarians had understood this exchange. Even Severus stood at the staff table not quite fully comprehending that his love, his Ángel, spoke fluent Bulgarian out loud. Then it clicked; Viktor Krum was Azrael's brother. He flung himself back in his seat and ran a hand through his hair. His mind ran back to that day at Sirius' house.

_Sirius stood and embraced Azrael. "This is where you belong whether you're Harry or Naos, Pup."_

'_No Padfoot. I still have another family somewhere. I have a brother and we play Quidditch together and I jump on him in the mornings because he's a heavy sleeper. He has brown, chocolate coloured eyes and short brown hair. He doesn't smile in polite company and walks a bit duck-footed. He's smart and understands me.'_

"_So if you find him, you'll go and play Quidditch and jump on him in the mornings and scowl together in polite company?" Sirius asked with a twinge in his voice. He seemed to realize where this conversation was going and released the boy._

'_Yes...'_

Severus now felt his heart break just as surely as Sirius had on that day. They hadn't been as involved back then; not nearly as emotionally invested in their relationship as Severus was now. He would let the boy go if that's what he wanted but he wondered how much would be left of himself when his Ángel was gone. His motivation, purpose and life source seemed to dim a bit at the mere thought.

Then the big question hit him: Where would they go from here?

Viktor looked down at his hands, then to his brother beside him. He shook his head a bit before facing to his left side yet again. This wasn't a dream. This was real. His brother was beside him on the overstuffed loveseat that Professor Dumbledore had procured for this occasion in particular. He waited another half-minute before the floo grate flames reared up yellow from international floo powder before diminishing in the wake of Andor Krum.

"Kozmas! My son!" he cried out, unable to remain composed. It had felt like the disappearance of Kozmas had been due to his inattentive parenting. Andor secretly blamed himself wholeheartedly for his youngest boy's abduction, if the truth were to be told. "I'm so sorry," he sobbed when the boy threw himself into his father's arms.

"It wasn't your fault."

As the older brother, Viktor began to gain a sense of pride at his brother's words. Kozmas must have been the hundredth person to say that to their father but his words were the only ones that carried any truth and true weight to the situation.

"Where is mom?" He heard Kozmas ask as the flame shone yellow again and Lailya Krum let out a stifled cry behind her hand. All eyes turned to the crying woman and both sons embraced their mother out of habit. It hurt to see their mother cry, even though the tears were ones of joy and elation.

After more minutes of hugging and crying betwixt the reunited family, Albus Dumbledore made himself known to the oblivious new arrivals. "Welcome, Mr and Mrs Krum. So glad you could arrive on such short notice." Lailya let out a small hysterical hiccup and turned her tear-stained smiling face to the wizened old headmaster. "I think we should get you all situated for the night before we talk about any upcoming plans in the morning."

"Yes," Andor's English was thickly accented and curt but clearly thankful for the emotional reprieve. "We could do with some rest after such events."

"Tomorrow, you three must meet my companion," Kozmas insisted before hesitating to leave the Krums.

Confusion was wreaking havoc with Viktor's emotions when he asked, "Aren't you going to stay?"

"Stay where? I was going to go to bed for the night," he said like it was the most obvious statement in the universe.

Viktor raised and incredulous eyebrow, "So you're leaving already?"

"Well, my apartments are in the dungeons..."

"Apartments? Do all students have apartments?" Andor glanced over to his wife in thinly veiled concern at their son's admission.

The younger shook his head, "I live with my companion. He's a professor so he has apartments here. I can't be away from him for too long otherwise it stresses our bond so I just live with him. We always cuddle at night too."

Husband and wife alike turned scandalized faces to the headmaster and intent on voicing their outrage when Albus held his hands out in surrender. "I can assure you that no harm has come to your son. He came to us at Hogwarts as a mute boy and found a loyal friend and companion in our Potion's Master, Severus Snape. He has helped him through his studies and when your son had his power surge, Severus was marked as his companion."

"He is my human," the boy spoke aloud in Bulgarian with a grin. 'My markings on my skin, they manifested everywhere since I was taken. Severus looked into it to find out why as the school Sorting Hat said I was not a wizard. I am a Morarke.' Looking up from the floor and his shoes, he met his mother's eyes first followed by his father's eyes. "He takes good care of me, Father. Severus is a good man and he bears my mark."

Andor was not completely satisfied with this explanation. His instincts told him to listen to his son. He had been gone for long enough, been looking out for himself for long enough to surely know what – and who – was right for him. He still couldn't quite shake the part of himself that told him to take his son by the hand and not let go this time; to not let Kozmas down again.

"Come Lailya, Viktor. We have a big day tomorrow. We must let your brother get his rest," he directed at Viktor, who was still wary of the idea of letting Kozmas out of his sight. "He will meet us in the Hall at breakfast."

A thousand-watt grin shone across the youngest boy's face as he embraced his father and mother again. He stepped back and threw himself at Viktor with a fierce hug, "I'll be here in the morning. Don't worry," he said. "Night Father, Mother, Headmaster." He turned and walked towards the dungeons with a small bounce in his gait.

_He's going to leave. I'm going to have to watch him walk out the door again and no amount of hugs, smiles or international floo powder will change that._ Snape grasped for his tumbler, haphazardly sitting on the curved arm of the new chaise in his rooms. Fire light from the grate grazed the rim of the squat glass and highlighted the melting edges of the three ice cubes in his Scotch on the Rocks as the fire wood in the grate gave a small pop. The liquid itself held the warped reflection of Severus Snape's face, as he held the tumbler under his chin, legs extended down the chaise that his Ángel insisted on having in place of the fraying wing-back chair that Severus had once favored. He, like his furniture, was old and fraying at the seams so it seemed.

_Maybe it's time to think about tendering my resignation. I don't think I could stay here now, just like how I hate my home in Spinner's End – too many memories of Potters past._ He thought that last bit with a snort of ironic derision. James Potter had married the only woman that Severus had loved and then produced offspring that, as much as Severus wanted to steadfastly deny, was the only (young) man that had every held Severus' heart. _That is sick and low, even for a Death Eater such as myself. He is but a child! To have feelings for him is vile. It's unthinkable. Sure, Ángel is warm, loving and affectionate, but it is wrong of me to confuse friendly affection with amorous love. It's ridiculous to think that any person could love me – hard of heart and sharp of tongue as I am. My memory still echoes the cacophonous sound of James Potter egging me on saying, "No one could love a hook-nosed bastard like you, Snivellus. Even your mum didn't love you enough to stay."_ Another gulp of scotch from the tumbler. Another flicker of light against the rim of the glass. Another pop of the wood in the fire grate. Another love bound to be lost for one Severus Snape. It was almost inevitable at this point, he reckoned.

The door swung open and he heard his Ángel stumble over his own feet in the doorway. 'Sev.' He heard the projection but did not answer. The sooner he closed himself off, the less the separation would hurt. 'Sev!' his Ángel called again before rounding the corner into the living room. 'There you are. You didn't answer when I called. I was afraid I had missed you on the way back down here.' Still no reaction. He gazed into the fire and tried to remember how much of his bottle of scotch he had gone through. This was the strong stuff too – a gift from Minerva.

'Sev? Sev, are you alright? You're not coming down with something are you?' he felt Severus' forehead but nothing was amiss. He looked at the floor to see the large bottle of scotch with but a quarter of the bottle left. The bottle had been full, or at least almost full, when he had seen it last. Severus didn't usually drink scotch.

'Come on, up you get.' Azrael lifted Severus' arm and attempted to lift him up but the man would not budge. 'Come on Sev. We have to go to bed. It's late,' he insisted to the unresponsive man. He stood there for another minute before Severus took another swig from his drink in his right hand and the boy had had enough of being ignored. 'Fine. I'll be in bed when you decide that I can exist again.'

Severus sniffled a bit and resumed sipping at his almost gone finger of scotch. The boy stormed off into the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind him. He heard him rummaging around harshly for his bed clothes and then movement in the adjoined bathroom. Once all the movement ceased, there was about ten minute of silence. Snape picked up the bottle from the left side of the chaise and poured more scotch in the tumbler, ice cubes but slivers in the bottom of the previously bare glass.

A couple fast paces could be heard and suddenly the bedroom door was flung open and as Severus eased the scotch bottle onto the floor again, he found it snatched out of his palm. Azrael walked into the kitchen with it, most likely to dump it out or hide it, and stormed back into the room. He leaned over and snatched the booze out of Severus' limp right hand and tossed the glass into the fire with a clink of the glass breaking in the hearth.

He stood next to the chair and held out is hands. Severus felt himself separate from the chair and didn't really feel fazed by his young companion's tenacity. He found his semi-drunken self floated into the bedroom and carefully deposited onto the bed where his Ángel proceeded to hastily disrobe and divest him of his usual layers before crawling into the bed and wrapping one of Severus' non-responsive arms around him. He knew what he wanted and went after it. Severus had to admit that it was one of the things that he loved about his Ángel before sleep claimed him and he pulled his companion closer to himself.

A/N: Hey Peeps, so I know that it has been a long time (I don't really want to think about how long it has been) since I updated but I can whole-heartedly assure you that this story is not done and it is not doomed to being on an indefinite hiatus. I WILL FINISH IT.

All my written love,

-Lexi


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